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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243939">Hide and Seek (yandere Ticci Toby / reader + yandere Jeff the killer / reader)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneLoner413/pseuds/ThatOneLoner413'>ThatOneLoner413</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Creepypasta - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Crack Treated Seriously, Creepypasta, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gore, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Porn With Plot, Serious Injuries, Smut, Stalking, Violence, Weird Plot Shit, Yandere, You Have Been Warned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:33:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneLoner413/pseuds/ThatOneLoner413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your hands collide with the ground; right wrist taking the brunt of the fall. You wail this time. More so out of defeat than pain. The sound only goes so far as a body pounces on you. Pined by a hand tight around your throat, your limbs flail.</p><p>"Stay down, bitch!" Is growled in your ear followed by gravely 'fuck' as the toe of your boot embeds itself into tender flesh. The hand loosens, you cry out, roll over and claw at the grass. </p><p>On all fours, you scramble upright. Your wrist burns with newfound pain and you choke down a sob. </p><p>We'll be right behind you.</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p>TW This is a DARK fic!!! TW</p><p>IT CONTAINS GORE, VIOLENCE, SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, DARK THEMES and more. </p><p>Could potentially contain mentions of non-consensual sexual encounters and SUICIDE. I will add tags and warnings as I go.</p><p>PLEASE READ WITH CATION!!!! </p><p>A little disclaimer: I have posted this on Quotev and Wattpad.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer/Reader, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers|Ticci Toby/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. On My Teeth   0:1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work is unedited.</p><p>THIS IS A DARK FIC.  Yandere Ticci Toby x reader / Yandere Jeff The Killer x reader. </p><p> </p><p>My Wattpad link- my.w.tt/BG4es1QE05</p><p>My Quotev link - https://www.quotev.com/ThatOneLoner413</p><p> </p><p>This story mentions: SUICIDE, GORE, DEATH, UNSTABLE MENTAL STATES, ABUSE</p><p>This story could contain: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SMUT, RAPE</p><p> </p><p>THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!!!!</p><p> </p><p>So please for the sake of my sanity don't come crying if I've written something controversial or upsetting and it's triggered you. It's your fault for not reading the warnings. On the other hand, if any of you ever want to chat to me about shit or just to say hello, feel free. I'm a lonely human who should probably interact with more people.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway...    ranting aside, enjoy the story and please comment or give it a kudo. </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dead aspen trees border the edge of freedom; the grey area between hell and ordinary life. Your back faces it. You go forwards, unknowing of the headache tomorrow will bring. It will be fun, we’ll wait right here- ‘Yeah right’</p><p> </p><p>You pace forwards. Head tilted down, a kaleidoscope of colours blur into one. Acid builds in your throat, you gag. Cough. Inhale- a stench of decaying leaves. Life wasn’t playing fair, but the night was young. </p><p> </p><p>The night was young alright, but you felt aged, like the wine your mother once drank. Body stuttering a few frames behind your mind. Fingers numb and skin ashen. Come on (Y/N)... live a little don’t flake on us- ‘Yeah don’t be a pussy (Y/N)’</p><p> </p><p>You pace forwards again. Your knees shake. You spit bile. No- Blood. You can hear them now. A growl of curses, heavy boots and that sickening ‘pop’ ‘crack’. You know you’re done for. We’ll be right behind you. We won’t leave without you “Bull shit!” </p><p> </p><p>The curse drips venom, you freeze. The forest behind you stills. Ambient white noise chokes you. Run. They found you. Adrenalin stings your veins. Run. You run. You’re not in control, fight or flight took the wheel. A chuckle of malice licks at the back of your neck and your scream replies back.</p><p> </p><p>The violent exhale of breath throws you off balance. Your hands collide with the ground; right wrist taking the brunt of the fall. You wail this time. More so out of defeat than pain. The sound only goes so far as a body pounces on you. Pined by a hand tight around your throat, your limbs flail. A gravely ‘fuck’ sounds somewhere above you, as the toe of your boot embeds itself into tender flesh. The hand loosens, you cry out, roll over and claw at the grass. </p><p> </p><p>On all fours, you scramble upright. Your wrist burns with newfound pain and you choke down a sob. We’ll be right behind you. Anger blinds you red. You stand and bolt. ‘Crack’ ‘pop’ you can hear them gaining once again. Lurid streaks of light penetrate the darkness around you- cars. You can hear the highway. Run- we’ll be right behind you-  A flash of orange steals your attention. You turn your head and pivot towards the highway. </p><p> </p><p>Barbed wire embraces your palms as you vault over a fence, the road only meters away. We’ll be right behind you. We’ll wait right here. We won’t leave without you. A prickle bush tares at your jacket as your feet touch tarmac. Blaring of horns drown out the footsteps behind you as you brace for impact. </p><p> </p><p>A flash of white then nothing. </p><p> </p><p>----------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Pian. Oh, how one can find it so sickeningly sweet when engulfed in it. The very feeling becomes a clutch in one’s mind and one does not want to let go through the fear of not existing and not feeling real.</p><p> </p><p>You felt pain, like the annoying pinch of a tattoo needle beating down on the back of your brain. Then it travelled down your spine and reminded you of how utterly fragile you are. How physically broken you can become. </p><p> </p><p>You never thought death could be so complicated. That dying didn’t mean the end. They said you were dead upon impact. The sheer force of the collision stopped your heart but after three resuscitation attempts, you pulled through. Horribly injured but alive. </p><p> </p><p>The doctors said you got lucky, hit by a bike and thrown to the side of the road. A collapsed lung perforated stomach and a hell of a concussion. They slipped you into a coma, put you back together and placed you into the bed which you now lay. </p><p> </p><p>You’d been awake for a week now and in the hospital for six. Thankfully you didn’t suffer the consequences of the coma and hence didn’t vegetate. Your wrist had healed so had your lung and other various fractured bones. Much to your dismay, your stomach was not quite fully recovered, so liquids only. </p><p> </p><p>One week back from the dead and the doctors had finally let the police get involved. You were now on your third round of questioning. You couldn't focus. Every time you try to remember that night you’re greeted with a flash of orange and mind-numbing static. That sickening ‘crack’ ‘pop’ still resonates off the casing of your skull. The doctors said you had minor amnesia because you can remember the first half of the night but have no recollection of how you ended up face down on a highway.</p><p> </p><p>You originally said you might have been drunk. You and your friends were drinking that night. The police, however, wanted to know more, like how you ended up with a purple handprint around your neck. Or why your friends let you wander off into the woods alone.</p><p> </p><p>The police had questioned your friends. They all said the same. “She wandered off…” “She walked away.” “We tried to call out for her but hours passed and we thought she ditched us.” Why they didn’t think to call the police? You had no fucking clue. Bad signal? Maybe. Betrayal? probably.</p><p> </p><p>You had spoken to your counterparts from that night only once. You were far too livid to want to be in a mile radius of your so-called friends. They had abandoned you and ultimately you had died.</p><p> </p><p>Sure you didn’t remember much but you had remembered how they promised they’d wait outside after they dared you to wander into an abandoned shack. ‘Empty fucking words.’ When they came to visit you had told all three of them to fuck off. You could deal with rumours and harsh words but betrayal… betrayal hit home and hit hard. </p><p> </p><p>“So miss (Y/LN), if you remember anything about that night, give us a call.” he placed down a small silver card and with that you watched the third and final detective exit your personal room. Much to your relief, the last detective had been the most patent; with his caring eyes and warm demeanour, he listened to you. Didn’t pressure you, insult you like the others.</p><p> </p><p>He was kindly, more so than the nurses. The nurses didn’t like to loiter when it came to you. The only one that spoke to you was Mary, an old soul in an even older body. Mary was stern but fair, brought you breakfast (yoghurt) lunch (more yoghurt) and dinner (jelly). But she never spoke much. Only a brief ‘hello, how are you feeling’ or ‘you have a visitor’. </p><p> </p><p>Today she seemed off. Her well-used legs quivered and her hands shook as she made her way into your room. The last detective had not long left and it was time for dinner. Bony fingers handed you ‘sugar-free strawberry jelly’. You thanked her, no reply. She wouldn’t look at you. Grey eyes darting everywhere but you. A spark of panic hit your gut. </p><p> </p><p>“Mary?” horse voiced, you reached out to touch her hand. She jerked and cursed, backing away from you. Raw fear clouded her eyes as she clawed at the wall, her nails chipping. You shuddered and reeled back, confusion crossing your face. </p><p> </p><p>“Mary? W-Whats going on.” her fear was intoxicating. It latched on to you and ate you whole. Tears welled in your eyes as a sudden wave of terror choked you. You didn’t know why or what was going on. Mary picked up on this and started muttering. Nonsense bubbled and spewed past her lips as she chanted a mantra in your direction. You sunk back hand reaching out for the red assistance button. You were trembling, crying silently. The mumblings grew louder as you thumb dug into the button. Her voice was clear now, demanding that you leave. Threatening that ‘HE’ will come. Over and over.</p><p> </p><p>“Leave, child or HE will come. Leave and never come back. Leave. LEAVE” she was still chanting when security came and dragged her away. Bloody claw marks were forever indented in the wall where she coward- ‘LEAVE’ you wailed, overwhelmed with what was going on. ‘LEAVE’.</p><p> </p><p>The doctors said it’d be best if you continue your recovery at home; that they could do no more for you. ‘Liars’ you new that the nurses refused to treat you and that the doctors were scared of you but you didn’t know why. You had been nothing but thankful and polite. Always complying to either dressing changes or fresh I.V lines. A model patent.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Your friend of three years Leah Huxton was at your doorstep when you returned home. “The hospital called said they discharged you. Wanted me to check up on you.” you didn’t reply. Too busy focusing on remembering the code to your spare key box. “Look, I know you’re pissed-” ‘ fuck you’.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen, if you don’t have anything dire to say, please leave.” Your voice wavers as the lock turns, Leah still behind you. “Please. I have a headache and I have things to do…” Leah steps forwards her hand pushed open the door and she smiles at you. A sad ‘i know you’re tired, so am I’ kind of smile. You study her, hair dishevelled skin ghostly, face gaunt. She almost looks worse than you… almost. “Leah…”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s sit down and talk.” </p><p> </p><p>Leah always made the best tea, warm and welcoming; it matched her eyes. The brew sat hot in your hands and bitter on your tongue. Leah sat across from you, blank-faced and fidgety. “Your tea’s shit.” ‘Liar.’ Leah made no move to reply. “Cut the crap, what’s going on.” empty eyes flicked up to yours then fear flashed in them. Her hand began to tremble as her lip quivered. A shuddery intake of breath qued your stomach to sink. </p><p> </p><p>“We saw IT, in the woods…” a tear slipped down her cheek. “ Dan was on his way into the shack and- and IT just… IT just appeared right next to him and the sound. Oh god, the sound.” Cold sweat crept down your neck and your tongue felt fat in your mouth. You noded at Leah urging her to continue, she swallowed, blinked out another salty stream. “Static. all we could hear was static. I- we ran. All I wanted to do was get away from that white noise. It was like it was ripping us apart from the inside out. Digging up my mind and- and oh god (Y/N)... I’m sorry. Sorry-” She choked back a sob and downed the rest of her tea. Her icy orbs trained on her hands, knees bouncing.</p><p> </p><p>Tention was thick in the air. “What thing? What appeared and why are you so-”</p><p> </p><p>“The tall man, (Y/N)! It took you… I saw it drag you away- Then THEY showed up and I heard you scream. We couldn't help. We tried, shit. I fucking tried but there were THEM and that noise. God, oh god, (Y/N). THEY were fast and I couldn't find the others… I ran. I can’t remember anything after that but when I woke up it was nine P.M the next day and I was- was home...” Leah was in hysterics now, hiccuping her sentences and drowning her poorly applied mascara. </p><p> </p><p>You shifted uncomfortably, a nagging feeling licking goose flesh across your skin. “What about dan and Macey? What did they see?” you were greeted with silence a harsh ear ringing nothing. Leah’s mood seemed to darken. Her brows creased and her teeth bared.</p><p> </p><p>“Dan said he was drunk, Macey was off her head. They both think I was seeing shit. I know what I fucking saw. And you… YOU WERE DEAD! IT Took YOU. The blood, no the screaming and-   And the police think we tried to kill you. That- that thing, it had you. I was sure you were- so sure it- fuck I’m sorry, sorry, sorry-”</p><p> </p><p>“Leah!” The girl before you was rocking back and forth, hyperventilating. Whatever she had seen ha crawled under her skin. You had never seen her like this; she was always so calm and composed, the motherly one of your friendship group… </p><p> </p><p>Her words played on your mind, pinned you to your seat, unable to comfort your friend. What had happened? What were you forgetting? You were all drunk that night. She could have seen anything-</p><p> </p><p>‘Bang!’</p><p> </p><p>The sound of your door slamming ripped your mind away from your thoughts. Leah had gone. Her footsteps, heavy down the stairs. You stood upright and bolted to the window just in time to see her rounding the corner of your block of flats and disappearing. ‘What’s going on?’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After the whole fiasco with Leah, you decided you were famished. Sadly most of the food in your fridge was either out of date or too solid for your poor, healing stomach. You contemplated ordering a takeaway, mainly because the nearest shop that was still open past midnight was a good 30 to 40-minute walk. But then you remember you didn’t have a phone and doubted just eat had your favourite smoothie. So, off to the shop you went.</p><p> </p><p>It was quite normal for you to be out late; having most of your college schedule set after midday meant your schedule was behind that of a normal human. So 1 A.M walks to ASDA was pretty much routine. You had grown up in a rough enough area to know what ‘not to do’ and ‘who to trust’. And this particular town wasn’t big on murder, kidnapping, etc: So your personal security wasn’t a big worry. </p><p> </p><p>However, tonight you felt quite uncomfortable walking the dead streets. So uncomfortable that it ached to walk. ‘Its the stitching in my stomach or the healing fractures of my ribs. I'm fine… (Y/N), you’re fine.’ The feeling was persistent like something was stalking you; measuring out your moves, calculating how easy it would be to pin you to the ground and watch you struggle. There was no point turning back, you were only ten minutes away and if someone really was watching you then they’d know where you live. </p><p> </p><p>If someone was watching you, you were screwed. With no phone and no one to call out too, what could be done? Besides if someone was watching you it was probably a mugger. You only pocketed 15 when you left. ‘I saw it drag you away… then they came.’ Leah’s word echoed around your mind. You froze.</p><p> </p><p>At first, you weren’t aware of why you were so stiff. Why your heart was lodged in your throat. Then it dawned on you, that familiar ‘pop’ ‘crack’ sounded off to your left. THEY were here and IT was close by. A low hum of static flooded the area. You darted forwards almost missing the dark and memorable chuckle that taunted you. </p><p> </p><p>You were at a loss, in a catch 22. Your subconscious obviously knew your stalker and was screaming for you to run but you didn’t know where. Sure the supermarket was only down the road but the thought of being trapped in an enclosed space with whoever was chasing you didn’t come across as a smart idea. Afterall fight or flight had kicked in and you didn’t even know what the fucker looked like, or more concerningly, what he was capable of.</p><p> </p><p>But you ran towards the supermarket anyway, like the cliche horror movie teen you were. Feet slapping along damp pavements, listening out for any indication that your static shadow was gaining. You heard nothing… just the blood rushing past your ears. You couldn't fathom why you were so utterly terrified. Nothing would fit in the right place. Nothing made any sense. But fear was fear and yours was raw.</p><p> </p><p>You could now see ASDA. its big green sign a symbol of hope, maybe freedom. You were halfway across the car park when you realised that the adrenalin had worn off and that no one was, in fact, chasing you. Stopping, you turn your head surveying the area then planted your hands on your knees in an attempt to gain your breath back. </p><p> </p><p>You felt stupid. You never panicked. Level headed, you managed to keep your cool in most situations and rarely ‘lost it’. Today, the cards taunted you; Mocked your inability to function. You didn’t know why you felt stupid. You were living a bad trip, lost in the abys. Unable to discern between reality and fiction. Too out of it to realise that static had come back and your ‘wannabe’ shadow was practically breathing down your neck. </p><p> </p><p>You stepped forward paying no attention to the approaching figure behind you - legs moving to a silent mantra, eyes trained on the sliding doors before you. A muffled voice was screaming empty commands. You were too out of it, your conscience had left. </p><p> </p><p>You paid no mind to the downpour that was now soaking your clothes, barely registered the temperature change as ASDA’s doors closed behind you. </p><p> </p><p>Mindlessly you wandered the isles, cornering yourself in the frozen section,  with no clue where you were going or why you even existed. A hand was choking your mind pulling it apart with deadening force. It was relentless... until you slipped. </p><p> </p><p>Your shoe skidded across the floor, taking you with it, you landed hard on your coccyx; the pain was enough to throw you out of your trance. Everything came crashing down at once. </p><p> </p><p>Ear-splitting white noise was the first thing that registered in your mind, then the dull ache from the fall. Your hands flew to your ears as you doubled over in pain. You had to get away from the sound. You shakily placed a hand on the floor to push yourself up but recoil when a sticky, warm substance embraces your palm.</p><p> </p><p>That’s when it all came rushing back. </p><p> </p><p>‘The half-decayed corpse in the old shack. The man in white and red and the man with orange eyes. Then the creature, the static. It took you - dragged you away. Then you were running, running from them, trying to escape, life slipping through your fingers. Orange eyes staring into your soul as a rough hand chokes you.-’ </p><p> </p><p>You bolt upwards, head swimming with unanswerable questions. Time stops when you finally survey your surroundings. Red; viscous dark red. Everywhere. You scream, turn scream again. The sight before you is truly horrifying. </p><p> </p><p>The white and red man from six weeks ago stood before you. His permanent grin resurfacing in your memory. The very same hoodie still stained red. He grinned down at you, blood leaking out the corners of his never-ending smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Toby, I win.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Recreant   0:2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: gore, violence and swearing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were mortified. They had found you, IT was here. You had to get out, escape. You turn your head only to come face to face with ‘orange eyes’ or more so orange goggles. A scream rips from your throat as ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ grips the back of your neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Now now, I’d keep that pretty little mouth shut if I were you.” ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ growled in your ear as ‘orange eyes’ studied you. Your heart was in your throat as the two manhandled you, ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ behind you and ‘orange goggles in front. They were so close almost crushing you between them. You couldn't run, could barely breathe. Death seemed like a safe haven; tall trees, short rope fix stupid but you didn’t want to die at another’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>So you dropped. Dropped right into a puddle of blood. The sheer violence of what surrounded you had nothing on the animosity and rancour enveloping them. They reeked of malice. You slipped under ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’s’ legs and scrambled to your feet. </p><p> </p><p>The floor was slick with blood. Various items were strewn across the floor and shelves were tipped over. Carnage was near impossible to avoid, as you the heel of your shoe crunched over pasta, crushed bread then skidded on what looked like intestines. You didn’t fall, no. you slammed straight into a checkout station. Blinding pain ripped through your hip as you struggled to regain balance. You could see the doors - taste freedom. </p><p> </p><p>Only a few steps and the outside world would embrace you. You made a beeline towards the doors, forgetting about the searing pain in your hip and about the two figures gaining on you. The doors were now less than 3 meters away but the doors were still closed. Blood splatter painted the glass pane and sent you sliding into them. </p><p> </p><p>Surely the sensors had picked you up? Why were the doors closed-</p><p> </p><p>“Stupid L-little girl.” The colour drained from your face, you had cornered yourself… again. “I thought you would have been s-smart- ter” That sickening ‘pop’ ‘crack’ echoed behind you as ‘orange eyes’ closed in. You knew you had to act fast or god knows what this fucker would do to you. ‘If all seems hopeless go feral, (Y/N). promise me you'll go feral.’ the voice of your mother sang in your mind making your ears ring. ‘Go feral, go ahead and fucking lose it-’</p><p> </p><p>You were shoulder clapped; you spun around, ripping ‘Orange eyes’ hand away from your shoulder and bit down. You clench your teeth till they went numb and your mind started working. He didn’t flinch, made no move to rip his hand away, just stood there peering down into your soul. You looked up at him; craning your neck back. You couldn't read him, couldn't see if he was in pain. All you could see was a grinning mouth guard and luminous orange goggles.</p><p> </p><p>You could tell he was smirking though. Maybe it was the glint of light reflecting on his goggles or maybe it was the way he tilted his head to the side. Whatever it was you didn’t like it. Dropping his hand, you backed off and cowered beneath his gaze. </p><p> </p><p>Your eyes flicked left and you caught a glimpse of ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ stalking his way towards you. It was almost predatory like the way he sulked across the floor, limbs moving in perfect sync, calculated, cunning. You, on the other hand, had no coordination whatsoever. You ran on adrenalin and low impulse control. You contemplated dropping again and sliding under ‘Orange eyes’ legs but with his counterpart prowling behind him, you figured he’d be on you in seconds. Attacking them seemed out of the question; the man before you could clearly hold his own and you were half of him. </p><p> </p><p>Chances slim and the odds out of your hands, you did what any rational human would do, you shoved him. Using the doors as leverage you pushed your whole body weight into him, successfully throwing him off balance. You saw his friend stiffen then pounce. You had just enough time to roll off of him and bolt. </p><p> </p><p>‘Where's the fire exit’ Your eyes frantically darted around, trying to locate the fire exit, as you legged it round the back of what once was the bread aisle. You could hear them following you, the heavy stomping of boots and a long string of curses. They were practically breathing down your neck. You felt a hand start to entangle itself in your hair, you pivot left, barely missing ‘orange eyes’ swinging fist. A small chunk of your hair is ripped free and you wail.</p><p> </p><p>Raw fear clouds you mind as tunnel vision guides you to the backroom in hopes of finding an escape. You throw yourself into the doors then leap off to the right. You scramble behind a stack of boxes and weight, palms slick with cold sweat and heart skipping beats. Much to your delight, your pursuers run straight past you. The only problem now is that you have no clue where they are. </p><p> </p><p>The backroom is musty and dark, damp with eeriness. Involuntary, you shudder. You take a step back, listening out for any indication that the pair are close by. A sense of deja vu washed over you; you’ve done this before, played cat and mouse. You stomach sinks - fool me once shame on you, fool me again… you weren’t getting out. You had outsmarted them once before, like hell they’d let you get away with it a second time. You were utterly screwed, deadweight at this point. There was no escape-</p><p> </p><p>“Come out, come out wherever y-you are~ w-we’re not gonna hurt ya…  much.” you froze he was close almost next to your ear, far too close for comfort. The maniacal laugh that followed gave away that ‘Orange eyes’ friend wasn’t at a safe distance either. They could probably see you, smell your fear. </p><p> </p><p>You took a step back, almost yelping when something stuck you in the back. Turning, your face lit up. Behind you was the fuse box; your ticket out. Your get out of jail free pass. Why? The controls to the doors were here and you could manually open the doors, turn off the lights and give yourself enough cover to be able to slip out undetected. Or so you hoped.  </p><p> </p><p>The fuse box was complicated and nothing was labelled. ‘Fuck it’ Flipping all the switched at once, you crossed your fingers and prayed that the lights went out. The lights did indeed go out but there must have been a backup generator because now a blaring alarm was sounding.</p><p> </p><p>With no time to waste you ran back towards the back rooms doors, just barely able to make out the outline of them. You couldn't hear the pair over the sound of the alarm but knew that they were close by. Slipping and tripping over various obstacles you found yourself to be overly ambitious thinking it was a quick sprint to the doors. You knew the doors were open. You could hear the rain lashing down on the tarmac. You couldn't quite find them though. Apparently, the fuse box controlled the power to the car park lights as well, meaning that you had a slim chance of seeing the doors. And even slimmer chances of making it out of them.</p><p> </p><p>The alarm was still blaring as you slipped once again, this time landing on your ass. The pain from your hip resurfaced at the impact and your stomach flipped. The pain was nauseating, all-consuming. It relentlessly pounded along to your heartbeat and you screamed. You knew the heard that. You tried to stand but the pain winded the strength out of you. God, you were fucked. Like a lamb up for slaughter, your fate was inevitable. You might as well just hand yourself over. Maybe they would show mercy, take pity on your fragile self. </p><p> </p><p>‘Psychopaths have no mercy. Pick yourself the fuck up and get a grip (Y/N)’ somehow your spirit lived on, unfazed by the past six weeks of your life. Unhindered by the prospect of your foreseeable demise. Adrenalin flooded your veins and you picked yourself up. No time for crying. You pushed down the urge to buckle and forced your legs to move. </p><p> </p><p>You rounded a corner and caught sight of the door… And ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’. He was about four passes from the doors, guarding them. You huffed, wishing this night was over or that you’d wake from this tedious nightmare. </p><p> </p><p>Life really wasn’t playing your song today. Life was fucking with you on a whole new level. If Karma really was a bitch then you must have run a cult that sacrificed pregnant women to the devil or something because fuck me life really was fucking with you. </p><p> </p><p>You had to come up with a plan and quick because ‘Orange eyes’ was nowhere to be seen and he had a habit of popping up out of nowhere. ‘Fucking think’ you could just bolt and hope for the best? No - ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ would have your throat before you could even step out. Find a weapon? Yeah, that could work but you were pretty certain you were in the baby aisle and throwing pacifiers seemed quite defective. You needed a distraction. Sure the alarm was going off but that wouldn’t cover you completely. You needed something bright-</p><p> </p><p>A strong arm looped around your waist - cutting off your thoughts and ripping a scream from your throat. A gloved hand found your neck and tightened. You thrashed, successfully landing a hit to your attackers lower jaw. However, you landed flat on your back and straddled within seconds of doing so. ‘Maybe he did feel pain.’ the gloved hand was still tight around your throat but the other one behind his back, fiddling with something. You stole the opportunity of having your hands free and socked him straight in the nose. A half choke half sneeze emitted from the man above you as blood speckled your face. The hand around your throat let go and you brought your head up hard. </p><p> </p><p>Your head collided with his jugular, then up into his jaw. The crack of his teeth slamming shut was your cue to slip out from underneath him. You bend your legs and booted him in the gut. The force of the hit sent you sliding backwards into shelving and him over onto his back, He growled and his hands flew to belt as he fell, you noticed there to be two nightmarish blades dangerously glinting back at you. You couldn't quite see what they were because of the darkness but when he drew them, it was obvious the damage he could inflict upon you would be catastrophic.</p><p> </p><p>You gripped the shelf behind you, knuckles turning white as you began to raise your self to a standing position. You could hear ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ approaching and laughing maniacally.  He was off to your left, leaving his post at the doors. ‘Fucking idiot.’ this was your chance, with ‘orange eyes’ still recovering from being winded you could bolt towards the doors and outside. You hoped it would be hard for them to catch up to you once out there; that you could lose them in the heavy rain. </p><p> </p><p>You just had to get past ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’. You glanced left and saw him steadily approaching; much like before he moved with the agility of a carnal predator. You could see ‘orange eyes’ now closing in. you had one shot. One more chance to run. </p><p> </p><p>‘Wait for it…’ you ran as a hand barely brushed up against your wrist, kicking your foot out and tripping ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ as you went. The sound that came roaring out of him had your adrenaline pumping double time. He was pissed, livid. You knew you couldn't let him get ahold of you. It would prove fatal at this point. </p><p> </p><p>The doors were now blurring into the surrounding scenery as you raced through them. Shoes slapping hard on sopping ground, skin freezing as winter rain drowned your arms. You were halfway across the car park when your hip started burning again and the blaring alarm had finally eased off. </p><p> </p><p>You had no idea how fatigued you were. The need for oxygen in your muscles was borderline unbearable but the primitive fight or flight mode was on full blast and wouldn't allow a break - don't stop till you drop. Not that the prospect of getting caught wasn't motivating. No, not at all.</p><p> </p><p>With your lungs burning and your heart working a triple shift, you had to find somewhere to safely get you shit together and calm the fuck down. However, you were in an open car park and the likelihood of a large group of people suddenly appearing seemed slim. Sadly ASDA was off of the side of a joul-carriageway and that meant you were eventually in the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere. And being in the middle of nowhere meant no people. And no people meant no help. You were alone, so very alone. Forced to face two savage killers with no guidance whatsoever. </p><p> </p><p>But you pushed on, in hopes that somehow you would find solace. Somehow you will free yourself from this hellish predicament. </p><p> </p><p>You could now see the streetlamps that lit the main road - void of cars. You supposed, if your stamina held out, you could make it to the town square at the end of the road and possibly find someone to confide in. The road stretched a good ten minutes before buildings started to spring up, you had only just emerged from the car park.</p><p> </p><p>You couldn't stop though, you didn't know how close they were, couldn't risk death. Couldn't chance the devil. Naturally, though you began to slow; your steady pace diminishing dramatically, you just couldn't push yourself to run let alone sprint. You ended up slowing to a fast jog. </p><p> </p><p>Slowing was risky but necessary if you wanted to keep moving. You were sure the pair wasn't far behind but you couldn't be sure. You hadn’t heard them and every time you looked over your shoulder the curtain of rain was too dense to see more than ten feet. You took it as a good sign. Maybe you had lost them in the rain. Maybe life had finally had mercy on you. Maybe you could actually get home undetected. </p><p> </p><p>You had been walking for what felt like hours - only minutes. The adrenalin had worn off and you had resigned to a pained hobble. You were sure to have bruises by morning; if you make it to morning. Your concept of time had long gone and now you suffered for it. Each second agonisingly long. Your flat seemed a lifetime away.</p><p> </p><p>Houses and various buildings started to pop up now and you knew something wasn't right. Surely the duo had figured out the direction in which you went and after what you witnesses in ASDA they should be upon you now. There was no way in hell they’d give up now. Surely not? The pair seemed relentless at chasing you around ASDA, why would they stop now?</p><p> </p><p>They were toying with you, mocking you from a distance, waiting for you to combust in flames of paranoia. Relishing the thought of you ‘losing it.’ </p><p> </p><p>The town square was now before you, your flat just down the road. No one was in sight. It wasn't surprising the clocktower read half two in the morning. You had been walking for what felt like decades on a potently sprained hip and god knows what other injuries. You felt like shit, probably looked it too. When you got home you would run yourself a nice warm bath after finding a phone and contacting the police.</p><p> </p><p>You were beyond ecstatic when the rundown building that you called home came into view. Baffled at how you could have survived the night but relieved nonetheless. Entering through the main doors, you now only had to concur three flights then you would be back in the security of your home-</p><p> </p><p>“Should have knocked her out, I'm gonna go see whereabouts the others are at.” A hushed voice set you on high alert as your foot made contact with the first step. Somewhere above you was a very pissed of sounding guy. Clearly, someone, you didn't want to run into. And someone probably up to no good by the sound of his conversation. </p><p> </p><p>‘Hide’ there was nowhere to hide. ‘Run’ your body was barely standing. You couldn't move, the urge to just pass out overwhelming. You could hear the stranger stomping down flight after flight and before soon he was right above your head. Your legs buckled, you hoped, prayed that he was a decent guy and that he'd take pity on you, help you. You escaped death why should life give up on you now. No. You won't give in. reaching out for you hood you pulled it over your head and began to climb.</p><p> </p><p>You passed right by the guy, he barely acknowledged you - probably thought you were a student coming back from a one night stand. You slowed down as he passed in a poor attempt to gauge how he looked. You couldn't see much, your eyes were drowning in tears at this point so all you managed to make out was hid tan jacket and extremely pale complexion. He also looked to be wearing makeup. Thick eyeliner and black lipstick but who were you to judge, you looked worse. </p><p> </p><p>Two flights down and you were trying to keep the noise down as to limped up the last flight. The pain was unbearable at this point. ‘One more flight’ step after step you pushed yourself to go on. The last three steps were the worst and as you become delirious due to pain. Eyes unfocused and breathing laboured. You could see your flat now.</p><p> </p><p>Door wide open, you froze. ‘No, no, no, no, no’. Faint whisperings could be heard from within and multiple footsteps from the bottom of the staircase. You were so close. A scream was on your lips as two figures emerged from the doorway. One, you didn't recognise with his blacked-out face asides from a red frowny face painted on but next to him stood ‘Orange eyes’ dried blood from where you hit him smeared across his mouth guard, weaponry in his belt glinting in the revealing light.</p><p> </p><p>The scream never surfaces as someone gripped the back of your hoodie and dragged your back to their chest. You glanced up through teary eyes only for ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ and the guy from the staircase come into view. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss me, doll.” was growled in your ear as the cool blade of a knife pressed into your throat. You bit back a whimper as the man holding you chuckled. You didn't notice ‘orange eyes’ approaching but screamed when he ripped you away from the knife-wielding maniac. The knife nicked your skin in the process but you don't have time to dwell on the stinging as you were kicked to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ smirked down at you as you tried but failed to pick yourself back up. It was all too much, you couldn't believe that they had won. You were so close yet so far.</p><p> </p><p>“Throw her down the s-stairs.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hopefully less confusing than the last chapter.</p><p> </p><p>Again I apologise for shitty little grammatical errors.</p><p> </p><p>Please comment what you think, this is, after all, my first fanfiction and I'd like to know if its shit or not.</p><p> </p><p>Till next time - Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. When The Sun Sleeps   0:3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains VIOLENCE, GORE, CURSE WORDS, DARK THEMES!!!!!!!</p><p>YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pain, raw relentless pain. That's all you felt. It blossomed in at the back of your skull, spread, ignited your veins like caffeine. Your eyes shot open. Everything was too blurred together in a grey-green mass for your unfocused orbs to make sense of. You blinked once, twice then went to rub your eyes. Your hands wouldn't move. You try again, nothing. </p><p> </p><p>You glance down, focus still off, there's a thick rug like fabric draped over you, up to your neck. You try and shift, the fabric slides down you, exposing your torso. You try your hands again, no avail ‘they must be tied…’ You freeze. ‘They must be tied!’ you bolt upright, a dull ache prickles up your spine as you wrists begin to sting. Where were you? You still couldn't see, brain refusing to overpower the throb of a migraine. </p><p> </p><p>You wanted to sleep, slip away to the land of unconsciousness but a low hum and the occasional violent jolt of your body made it impossible to. You were moving. In a car? ‘Why is the sky fuzzy?’ The back of a pickup truck. </p><p> </p><p>The cold seemed to magically appear as you realised where you were, or more likely what you were in. they must have knocked you out, tied you up and chucked you in the back of the truck. They clearly didn't give one if someone saw you and probably couldn't care less if you froze to death - no, you weren't dead. They had knocked you out not killed you. </p><p> </p><p>Why would they want you alive? Yeah, sure you saw them but all of them were wearing masks except ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ but who’d believe you if you described his face? ‘No one…’ what could you offer them, you were practically broke, had no connections to anyone vaguely important and you had no idea who the hell these people were.</p><p> </p><p>Where the hell were they taking you? Wait - you don't want to know. You were going to get out before that point. You just had to free your wrists. The rope was tight, too tight. The only way to free yourself would be to find something sharp. The truck was pretty much empty other than you, the carpet and a hammer. </p><p> </p><p>God, you were fucked. Shifting up into a more suited position, you try and shift your wrists under your legs and towards your stomach. With your hands in front of you, you could really see the damage. Your left hand was a deep red, purple. The other wasn't so bad. The knot though had been sealed with a lighter, so the knot at hand was a clump of melted nylon. You could chew through it. R.I.P your teeth.</p><p> </p><p>You’ve been working on the melted plastic for god knows how long. You've already chipped two teeth and your mouth is bloody and numb. The sun had begun to set. You needed to pick up the pace. You had no idea how long they would be driving for and judging by your luck you knew they would probably stop very soon. </p><p> </p><p>With your right wrist almost free you lent over towards the hammer. Hooking the last string of melted plastic between the teeth of the hammer you pulled. With your wrist free you started on your feet; left wrist too painful to touch. Your feet weren't so bad the knot was melted but only slightly. Kicking off the last loop of rope, you looked out over the panelling of the truck. </p><p> </p><p>Green, green, and more green. You were in thick woods and god knows where. The ground was blanketed in pine leaves and the sky hidden. You could jump. Where would you go? You could run, follow the road back. If you were lucky enough you could find civilisation. You just had to hope you didn't get lost or you or you captors finding you. </p><p> </p><p>Turning your head you glanced at the main body of the truck - no back window. Well, at least they couldn't see you now. All you had to do was jump, avoid being seen in the wing mirror and leg it into the tree lining. </p><p> </p><p>Grabbing the hammer you climbed up the panelling and let your legs dangle. Left or right? Left. Whoever was driving would be focusing on the road right? God, you fucking hoped so. You gripped the side edge of the panel. ‘Now, I lean forwards and roll when I hit the ground maybe, just maybe I won't fall on my-</p><p> </p><p>A heart-shattering jump scent you over the edge and flying. Your left shoulder and wrist hit the ground first, then the side of your hip. White blinded you as the air was forced to expel from your lungs and pain spiked in your arm. If it wasn't broken before it sure was now. </p><p> </p><p>The ground below you, though covered in decaying pine leaves, was frozen solid. You rolled onto your back, wincing as you took the weight off of your left side. You couldn't hear the car. </p><p> </p><p>You couldn't hear the car! Your swivelled round facing the road. There about 150 yards away was the silver pick up truck, not rolling to a stop. You panicked, scrambled to your feet crying out in anguish and bolting into the tree line. </p><p> </p><p>The slam of a car door and loud shouting shocked your legs into overdrive as your heart struggled to maintain a regular beat. You had to hide or somehow lengthen the distance between you and them. Climbing a tree was out of the question; what, with your left hand in such bad condition. And there was barely any undergrowth big enough to hide you. You had two options run or surrender. </p><p> </p><p>Like hell, you were going down without a fight. Gripping the hammer tighter in your left hand you pushed on edging back towards the road so you didn’t get lost At this point in time, you had no idea where your kidnappers were. For your sake, you hopped that was mutual.</p><p> </p><p>You couldn't get caught, not now. This was your second - no - third chance, you couldn't let this cloud of miserable tragedy overpower you. ‘I have to keep going, no, I can keep going. Yeah, I’m gonna show those fuckers, not to fucking mess with me-’</p><p> </p><p>A loud crack sounded off to your left, deep in the forest. ‘God, (Y/N) stop being such a pussy it’s just an animal or something.’ You ignored it, carried on running. You were staying as close to the road as possible but still hidden by trees so that if they decided to drive back up the road you would be mostly hidden.</p><p> </p><p>The sky was darkening now and dusk was morphing into the night. ‘It must be gone five. How long was I out for? Hours? Day-’</p><p> </p><p>Another loud crack this time ahead of you. You freeze, feet cemented to the ground. You glance around... nothing. Only the black abyss of trees and the thick fog of night. You step forward, a series of rustling mimic you. You stop, it stops. </p><p> </p><p>Fear churns in your stomach threatens to knock you out. Your head spins at the mere thought that they found you. Surely they couldn't have. You were ahead of them by at least- </p><p> </p><p>A gust of boltic air rushes past your face as a low thump sounds behind you. You whirl around smacking the side of your face straight into what felt like the handle of something.o You step back, blink then gasp. The bright yellow handle of what looked like a hatchet was inches away from your nose. </p><p> </p><p>You backed up, warmth spread across the back of your neck. They were right behind you. The musty scent of cigarette and pumpkin spice filtered through your nose. A pleasant yet terrifying smell. You involuntary whimper, knees threatening to buckle. Your connerd. Once again losing in this twisted game of hiding and seek. </p><p> </p><p>The road! You could slip across the road and disappear off into the forest on the other side, no they'd find you. They found you this time, so what's stopping them from tracking you down again. Worth a shot though? Fuck it! </p><p> </p><p>You bolted, ducking under the hatchet and eliciting a low chuckle from the body behind you. You scrambled up the slope towards the road and screamed. </p><p> </p><p>Bright light the screech of tires the spray of gravel, too late to backtrack. You skidded across the ground, ripping holes in your jeans and hoodie. Rolling across the pine-covered road, you wheezed for breath. </p><p> </p><p>Looking up was a big mistake if your heart wasn't beating out your chest before, it sure was now. You were face to face with the pickup truck. Raw fear blinded you as you shakily stood. You went to adjust your grip on your hammer when you realised the hammer was gone. </p><p> </p><p>You were defenceless.</p><p> </p><p>A deer in headlights-</p><p> </p><p>“Miss, are you ok- oh my god miss what happened to you.” A figure appeared in front of you. At first, you couldn't figure out who was in front of you. Or the fact that they weren't a treat. Your fist hooked their jaw and your shoe struck just below their knee. </p><p> </p><p>A groan slipped out their lips as large hands descended on your shoulders. You panicked, kicked out again but missed. You were about to sink your teeth into their hand when the same unrecognisable voice spoke again. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss, ow! Fuck! MISS, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you.” You froze looked up; his face was partly lit by the headlamps. It wasn't one of them. Kind ocean eyes, luscious auburn curls; you were shocked. Guilt flooded your senses. With an apology on your lips and tears in your eyes, fear was temporarily erased from your mind. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss, you need to tell me what's going on-” He’s cut off as a mass of white slams into him. You jolt backwards the loud bang of his body hitting the side of the car forcing fear back down your throat tenfold. A low groan emits from the guy as you step back. </p><p> </p><p>You watch in horror as the white mass begins to take shape. ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ had the stranger pinned to the car, a knife to his throat. You wanted to run, scream, do something but terror had you nailed still. </p><p> </p><p>Until a car pulled up behind you.</p><p> </p><p>You bolted forwards. Aiming to shove ‘Mr Chealse Grin’ off of the poor stranger but a flash of silver sent you skidding on the ground and backtracking faster than you’d have liked. A slightly rusted hatched had embedded itself into the stranger's skull, raining blood over you and ‘Mr Chelsea Grin’. You stumbled in an attempt to distance yourself from the carnage but ultimately landing on your ass instead. </p><p> </p><p>Whoever had pulled up in the vehicle behind you was out and marching towards you. You had no time to brace for anything as a heavy hand buries itself in your hair and pulls. You struggle to stand as the hand pulled upwards and beings to drag you towards the other vehicle. You try to struggle, try to scream but a rough hand grips your throat and silences you.</p><p> </p><p>‘Mr Chelsea Grin’ ripped you away from whoever was ragging you hair and pinned you to the bonnet of the second vehicle.</p><p> </p><p>“You fucking run again sweetcheeks and I'm gonna have to carve up those pretty little legs of yours until your unable to walk.” You whimpered, struggling to breathe as a mix of blood and saliva splattered across your face. “DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!” He sneered, lifting his other hand to press a blade just under your chin. You gulped, throat dry, eyes drowning in tears. “I said DO I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeff, ENOUGH!” a voice off to your left cut ‘jeff’ off, his grip loosened and he backed his face up. “Just take her to the truck and put her in the back with you and Toby” the man above you growled at this but seemed to listen to the commanding stranger. </p><p> </p><p>Jeff loosened his grip around your throat but still kept the knife there. “Walk.” A simple command, easy enough to follow. Yet, your legs refused to move. “I said walk!” You were treading on thin ice as the blade dug deeper into your skin adding depth to his threat. Still, you were frozen. He snapped clipped your face with the back of his hand the edge of his knife drawing beads of blood. “I SAID FUCKING-”</p><p> </p><p>“For fuck s-sake Jeff. Give her to me.” </p><p>Your heart sank, you’d recognise that voice anywhere. ‘Orange eyes’  was back and by the sounds of it, he was in charge of the group. The leading maniac of this freak show. His whole aura screamed ‘I dare you to defy me.’</p><p> </p><p>Jeff mumbled a curse under his breath as he reluctantly removed his knife from your neck. A sharp sting spread across the surface of your throat as icy air hit the small wound. You whimpered, Jeff’s head snapped back towards you; devouring you whole. His gaze was predatory, savouring your pain like sweet sherbet on ice cream. </p><p> </p><p>“If the dumb bitch won't move for me she won't for you.” he growled out, voice dropping an octave at ‘bitch’. He stalked away from you, leaving you exposed to the unforgiving wind and making you miss the slight warmth that radiated off of him- ‘wait no, (Y/N). He’s a ruthless psycho, there's nothing warm about him he’d eat you whole given the chance…’</p><p> </p><p>A heavy hand wrapped around your injured wrist cutting your thoughts clean off as pain shot up your arm. You yelped,  movement coming back to your limbs and you struck him square in the face (again). His grip only tightened, seemingly unfazed by you futile attempt at escape. Or so you thought. </p><p> </p><p>A loud ‘crack’ rung out, like a whip in the air. You heard it before you felt it. A slow pulse set a rhythm in you check and across your nose. He had slapped you; backhanded you across the face. Your head snapped right, eyes watering and nose bloody.</p><p> </p><p>“Move,” he started, pulling on your wrist with utter prevail. “Learn your place.” and with that, you were shoved into the back of the pickup truck. </p><p> </p><p>This time you were crushed shoulder to shoulder with two blood-lusting maniacs. How it came to this? You didn't know. Don't know why, what, when, where, or how this all went wrong; Had no fucking clue. </p><p> </p><p>Your left hand had been cuffed to the drivers' headrest and your right had been held in a death grip by jeff since you were shoved in. ‘Orange eyes’ hadn't said or done anything other than twitch since the truck started rolling. The two masked men in the front pain no mind to you or each other. </p><p> </p><p>Tension choked you. </p><p> </p><p>You had estimated you'd been driving for one and a half hours since your little Houdini act. The truck had been on that forest road for most of the journey and only just turned off onto an off-road track. </p><p> </p><p>One car had passed… an hour ago. You were fucked, utterly fucking fucked. No one would save you. No one could save you. You had never felt so alone, so vulnerable, around people. (That's if you could call these freaks ‘people’)</p><p> </p><p>You were hungry, cold and thirsty - probably needed a piss too. You could do nothing. You had tried asking for some water but before you could even utter a word, jeff had told you to ‘shut the fuck up’ and you did; swallowed your basic human needs and silently suffered. </p><p> </p><p>—————————</p><p> </p><p>A rough jolt has you bolting upright, pain shot through your neck and you groaned. ‘What time is it?’ Another jolt. You yelped. “Fuck off, you fucking cu-“</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn't dare u-utter another word if I were you, kitten.” Your eyes shot open, you palled, skin icing over. You had fallen asleep. </p><p> </p><p>Shit. </p><p> </p><p>You had fallen asleep. </p><p> </p><p>This couldn't be happening, no. It was. You were awake, this was reality. It hadn't been a nightmare and life really was a bitch. </p><p> </p><p>You glanced left, Jeff was gone. So were the two in the front. It was only you and ‘Orange eyes’ </p><p> </p><p>“Get out, don’t make a commotion. We don't need any unnecessary deaths.” You looked at him in confusion. His goggles shone in artificial light, where are you? Looking past him, your eyes caught sight of something green. Bright, luminous, green. ‘Gas station?’</p><p> </p><p>Gas station. People. Freedom-</p><p> </p><p>‘Unnecessary deaths… oh.’ </p><p> </p><p>“I said g-get out” The gravely yet soaked in honey, tone of his voice ripped you away from your rebellious thoughts and back to the harsh reality of the situation. You had no escape, even with people around, you were trapped. You slipped your legs sideways and began to climb out of the car, your hand had been uncuffed at some point and was now painfully swollen. </p><p> </p><p>Your boots hit the tarmac and that was when you became dangerously aware of how much you needed to piss. You pushed down the need and looked up at ‘Orange eyes’. </p><p> </p><p>“There's a block of toilets o-over the-there. I'm going to walk y-you to them and wait outside. Try anything and everyone working in this establishment w-will die. And it will all b-be on you-“ A violent series of tics cut him off. He seemed to spasm for about five seconds then snapped back to normal; terrifying you. “I will n-not hesitate to hurt you.” He finished. </p><p> </p><p>You nodded. He began to walk, you followed. Like an obedient dog, you matched his passe adding an extra step to make up for you height difference. </p><p> </p><p>The toilets were dilapidated, beyond fixable. One wouldn't have recognised the space if not for the sign outside. Even the sign was falling off the wall. The mirrors were all smashed only one cubical had a toilet and of course no toilet roll. What had you done to deserve a punishment this torturous? </p><p> </p><p>Exiting the bathroom, you came face to face with the driver of the truck, not ‘Orange eyes’. The feminine features of his mask pissed you off for some absurd reason. You just wanted to slap the stupid thing off of his stupid face. Childish, some would call you. Honestly, you're pissed the fuck off and punching someone seemed like a dream. Of course, you couldn't punch him. He and his buddies would kill everyone and do god knows what to you. So, you let it fester inside choosing to look away from the black-rimmed eye holes and at your shoes instead. </p><p> </p><p>“Toby’s grabbing supplies. Follow me.” His voice was raspy, more so than ‘Orange eyes’ (well, toby?) but nowhere near as much as Jeff's. He smoked you could hear it, smell it. Must have smoked one earlier. He turned away, walking back towards the truck. Though shorter than the others in stature he sure was quick. You had to jog a little to catch up. He opened the truck door motioned for you to get in. You did. He slammed it behind you, almost catching your foot. </p><p> </p><p>Once you were in the car he walked around to the drivers' side and climbed in. You looked over at the front passenger seat, empty apart from a black plastic bag. The masked man reached into the bag, pulling out a water bottle and tossing it to you. You caught it with your left hand, yelping and dropping it you mutter an apology. No response. He was facing the shop, lighting a cigarette. </p><p> </p><p>You unscrewed the bottle and gulped down the water. The taste was pure, refreshing and needed. You silently thanked the masked man. Out of all of them, he had yet to show you ill-will. You knew you couldn't trust him though. As generous as he had been he still had you trapped in a truck-</p><p> </p><p>“Masky, how much further do we have?” Another unrecognisable voice appeared outside the window where ‘Masky’ was smoking. It was the hooded frowny faced guy. </p><p> </p><p>“3 hours.”  A voice next to your ear muttered, making your heart skip beats. Toby had climbed back into the car without you realising. Jeff was still nowhere to be seen. </p><p> </p><p>“Wheres Jeff?” Masky voiced your thoughts, concern dripping off the words. Oh dear. Whatever was going on wasn't good. You could feel fear crawl back into you and grip your heart. </p><p> </p><p>“The cashier looked at him funny.” So much for ‘We don't need any unnecessary deaths’. Clearly thus bunch couldn't care less who's blood was on their hands, probably killed their own parents or something. </p><p> </p><p>Masky turned to face Toby and was about to ask another question when the pale-faced maniac ripped open the door to your right. </p><p> </p><p>The suffocating stench of blood flooded your nose making you gag. He chuckled, sat beside you and yanked you closer. The smell was unbearable. You pushed him leaning towards Toby. He growled. Toby pulled you in. </p><p> </p><p>Panicking you leaned forwards away from both of them, toby didn't like this. Neither did Jeff. A rough hand on each shoulder you were yanked back. Masky had turned the ignition and began to reverse out of the station. </p><p> </p><p>You panicked. You had secretly hoped someone from the station would save you, call the police. Maybe shoot your kidnappers but no, you were on the move again. With only three hours left till you arrived at hell. </p><p> </p><p>Boy, you fucking wished that bike had killed you that day. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The chapters keep getting longer and longer. </p><p> </p><p>Again I apologise for any grammar mistakes.</p><p> </p><p>Please comment and heart this story id love to hear some feedback.</p><p> </p><p>Till next time - Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Are You The Rabbit?   0:4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter had parts that can be quite heavy on the mind read with caution.</p><p>WARNING TALK OF SUICIDE, GORE, LANGUAGE</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life was beyond joking around, it was purely just fucking with you now. The previous happenings of the past few days were horrendously traumatic. So utterly bone-chilling that now as a hatchet buried itself besides your head, you barely flinched; Couldn't even acknowledge your own fear. </p><p> </p><p>You knew it would come back. Come back hard and with a vengeance. No one could keep raw terror away for long. No sane person could anyway. Maybe you lost it, finally given in to your own streak of madness; joined the hatter and the hair for tea. </p><p> </p><p>No. </p><p> </p><p>You hadn't lost it, it was still there, keeping you on your toes and still craving freedom. You wouldn't let them cadge you up or tie you down. Your were and would remain a free spirit. </p><p> </p><p>Or so you hoped. </p><p> </p><p>This time you had royally pissed them off and their rage was unfathomable. All four of them were now pursuing you; how they hadn't already caught up to you was beyond your belief. Sure you had maybe accidentally caused some possibly debilitating injuries to them when they crashed the truck… but it wasn't really your fault. After all, you weren't at the wheel and surely a grown man can ignore a minor distraction. </p><p> </p><p>So maybe you fucked up. Big deal. You were fucked. </p><p> </p><p>It was their fault, they dragged you into this, forced you to sit beside two loons who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Used your life against you. Forced you to witness an innocent man have his brains splattered across your face. </p><p> </p><p>Was it really fair of a punishment for merely trying to survive? No. Yet, the universe had found amusement in your suffering and like the hawk moth to a beehive milked you of your misery. </p><p> </p><p>—————-</p><p> </p><p>You had just pulled out of the gas station when all hell broke loose. Jeff and Toby were still fighting over you and sirens had appeared in the area. A Lot of sirens. Clearly, someone had either witnessed or caught wind of Jeff's Minnie massacre and decided to snitch. You were having trouble deciding if this was either a good thing or potentially lethal. Sure the police were good and all but from what you've seen your kidnappers do, did the coppers really stand a chance? </p><p> </p><p>Probably not. </p><p> </p><p>You were torn, truck driving a solid 110 down the highway, you had no idea how this situation would pan out. You could- no. Yes! </p><p> </p><p>Crash the truck.</p><p> </p><p>Could mean death… but if it stopped your kidnappers from hurting others than it would be deemed a twisted act of heroism. Or so you hoped. </p><p> </p><p>How would you crash the truck? Throw yourself at Masky? Predictable. Toby would have you pinned beneath him in seconds, a hatchet to your throat and threats down your ear. You supposed you could choke him from behind but Jeff would have his fist closed around your throat before your fingers could graze the sides of Masky’s neck. </p><p> </p><p>You had to think outside the box. Baffle the brains out of your new-found insane fan club. You just had to find an attention holding distraction. Screaming sounded like the easiest thing to do, pair that with an Oscar-worthy reenactment of The Exorcist and bingo. You could pull that off. Yeah totally. Act possessed and hope that masky pulls the wheel and ‘bang’. </p><p> </p><p>Glancing at the rearview mirror you caught sight of pursuing blues. Excitement shot through you. At this point, escaping should seem hopeless. Yet, despite your drastic (and painful) knockbacks you still stood strong and took every opportunity to escape as a blessing. </p><p> </p><p>Turning to face out the window you noticed you were now driving through an urban area. Densely populated by tall buildings, this meant you had something for Masky to crash into. Up ahead seems to be an industrial estate. Perfect. </p><p> </p><p>You took a deep breath, summoned your inner demon and screamed. Thrashed. Punched. Kicked. You threw yourself forwards, a strong pair of hands weaved around your waist but you couldn't care less. You continued to swing your arms about and ended up slamming your elbow straight into Maskeys temple. He yelped a sound you hadn't expected. It was a whine mixed in with a scream. He jerked forwards hands flying to his head. He yanked at his mask and threw his head sideways collapsing into the window.</p><p> </p><p>What happened next stopped your heart dead in its tracks. Jeff had ripped you backwards and your head had ended up in Toby’s lap, a hatchet to your throat. Your eyes met orange goggles and fear coursed through you. He was livid. You could feel it seep into the air and choke you. God, you hoped the truck crashed. </p><p> </p><p>Toby lifted his other hand and brought it down hard onto your ribs. Stars flashed before you the Jeff appeared, his bloody smile stretching wide. Oh god. Oh fuck-</p><p> </p><p>‘Bang!’</p><p> </p><p>Your flew sideways, rolled off of Toby’s lap and onto the floor. The truck had hit something, hard. The door next to your head popped open and you internally cheered. Not paying attention to the psycho above you, you pulled yourself free from the wreck. Surprisingly you were pretty much unscathed. The same could not be said for the rest of the passengers. </p><p> </p><p>You glanced over your shoulder and grimaced. The truck was unrecognisable. The front was crumpled, crushing Masky and the hooded guy. Toby was passed out and Jeff was frantically pulling at the door and screaming curses at you. </p><p> </p><p>You had to run before he got out. Turning on you heal, you bolted. It was still nighttime and this particular road had a shit lighting system. Stumbling around you legged it away from the wreck. You could still hear sirens but the thought of staying and waiting for the police scent goosebumps running up your arms. Being within close proximity to the killers sent your heart into overdrive, police presence or not. You would rather not, thanks. </p><p> </p><p>Being careful not to trip in the darkness you rounded the corner of what seemed to be a large warehouse. You could hide and wait for the police to either shoot or arrest them, or just keep moving. Distancing yourself from them was the logical option but with your aching legs and lack of energy, you feared you wouldn't get very far and thus hiding would be fairer on your poor, fragile body. </p><p> </p><p>So you clambered under a fence and started scouring the walls of the warehouse looking for an entrance. About six feet off of the ground were broken windows. You could jump, risk impaling your hands on jagged glass or find another way in. You surveyed the wall. No doors only broken windows. You could run around the other side and hope an open door magically appears. No time. You had to hide. </p><p> </p><p>As if on cue gunfire erupted behind you. Shit, they were out. Windows it is. You jumped up, gripped the ledge with both hands. Thankfully there was no glass but the throbbing pain in your left wrist spiked. You wailed, tears streamed down your face as you pulled your self up. You were so fatigued that the sheer act of hooking your legs over the ledge boarded on impossible. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, you lifted your right leg high enough. Hooking it over the ledge, you ignored the slight sting as a shard of glass bit into your ankle. You went to lift up the left but it wouldn't budge. You tried again. No avail. It was stuck, but on what? There was nothing for you to catch your foot on- </p><p> </p><p>Oh, fuck no. </p><p> </p><p>A dark chuckle sounded from below you and a sharp tug at your ankle sent you screaming. Your hands flew away from the glass and you tried to lean further into the building. The grip around your ankle was bone-crushing. Thank fuck your ankle hadn’t actually broken yet. Another sharp tug made your free foot slip off of the window frame. You were now half in half out and the odds didn't look very favouring. You kicked out blindly, somehow landing a hit on whoever had your ankle in a vice grip. They let go, howled in agony and you scrambled back onto the window ledge. </p><p> </p><p>You leaned into the window too far, underestimating the drop on the other side. You tumbled face-first through the window, falling what felt like 10 or so feet. You fell on your back and thankfully not your head. The wind was knocked out of you. You choked, gasped for breath, momentarily forgetting about your pursuer. Forgetting until you heard a loud yell of curses. Surprisingly it wasn't Jeff. It sounded like Toby. So much for the so-called helpful boys in blue. </p><p> </p><p>You glanced at the window frame, a gloved hand was pried onto the edge and a striped jacket arm was draped over the ledge. He was hauling himself up. Wasting no time you bolted, skipping in joy when your ankle he had gripped, didn't hurt to run on. </p><p> </p><p>The warehouse was musty, smelt like an out of date cigarette, a duty book, a moth-eaten dress. Like something had died but never truly decayed, frozen in time. You ignored the smell, concentrating on not slipping on the damp floor. You could barely see anything and could only hope that that meant your pursuer can't see you. </p><p> </p><p>Luck, however, was still missing from your life. A low ‘swoosh’ sped past your ear and then a loud ‘thump’ sounded a few feet before you. You stopped dead. His damned hatchets.  Another ‘swoosh’ at least he was now weaponless. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck, from what you’ve seen, if you gave him feathers hed still be lethal. Hatchets or not the man standing behind you was the devil incarnate with the blood lust of 100 vampires. </p><p> </p><p>You had nowhere to go, cornered (yet again) by your own stupidity. Stuck in a hole only to be dug deeper by idiocy. You wanted to scream, cry, DIE. Maybe if you asked the maniac behind you nicely enough he'd end your suffering. A quick blow to the back of your head should do. A heavy knock to the back of your noggin should open your skull and let your life drain away. Sadly, something told you that the demon behind you would stretch it out; have you begging for death, living in pain. </p><p> </p><p>You could kill yourself. Maybe dislodge an axe, slit your wrists, gut yourself, slice up your throat. Your free hand lifted up to grip at the hatchet next to you. Not to pull it free but to ground yourself as you worked through all possible outcomes. All but one worked in his favour, your only way out would be to kill yourself. Even killing yourself was practically impossible at this point. The hatchet was practically in your hand but to have the will to bring it upon your own skin wasn't quite there yet. You couldn't do it. Couldn't bring yourself to end it all. You still had hope. Sure he had the upper hand, had you at checkmate but despite the odds, you still clung on to the thought of freedom. Latched onto anything and everything that meant making it out alive. </p><p> </p><p>He was two steps if that behind you; only an arm's length away. You could feel him relishing in your fear, admiring your shaking form. It leaked out of you pours, radiated off of you like a sickeningly sweet perfume. However, you weren't quite in his grasp. </p><p> </p><p>He pounced, you dropped, taking the hatchet with you. You gripped the handle of his hatchet, turned around and swung it full force into his ribs. Toby staggered backwards, coughing up blood, falling backwards as you crashed into him. Thinking you had the upper hand you dropped your guard and raised his hatchet above your head. </p><p> </p><p>You didn't get very far as a dark shadow plummeted into you, knocking you off of toby. You still had the hatchet but knew deep down that it was useless against the figure before you. Toby was still on the ground, wheezing and choking on his own blood. Damn you really did a number on the sucker-</p><p> </p><p>A growl came from behind you as two pairs of footsteps closed in. Oh fuck. Great now the whole gangs here. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Since the joker wannabe and Mr crazy axe were both before you, it could only that Masky and his depressed buddy were up and running once more. The stupid truck should have killed them. Heck, should have killed you too. Clearly, no one wanted to die tonight. </p><p> </p><p>Groaning emitted from the damaged male at your feet. Then silence. Was he dead? Could they even be killed? Could anyone here truly die? You've had enough close calls to make you think that maybe you were death proof. </p><p> </p><p>He sat up. Bolt upright then began to stand. Toby recovered faster than you had hoped. Drops of blood seeped through his mouthguard, painting the cement ground. You were fucked. Once again caged by your relentless predators. </p><p> </p><p>Time to go batshit crazy. You launched yourself at Jeff's legs, hatchet slamming into his shin. You had no time to pay attention to his reaction as Masky and his pal were upon you. The hooded guy had gripped your left wrist causing you to screech and slam the hatchet, blunt edge first, into the poor sod’s skull. He jerked backwards emitted a sound similar to that that Masky made in the truck and collapsed. Well, that was easier than you had first thought- </p><p> </p><p>“I’m GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” And there goes your moment of victory. Jeff was clearly a lot stronger than you had anticipated and slamming a hatchet into his shin only seemed to fuel his anger. He bolted towards you and with Toby now ripping his other hatchet free from a wall you knew you had to run. </p><p> </p><p>You turned and sprinted. Missing Masky’s flying fist by a hair you skidded past him, smacking him upside the head with the hatched as you passed.</p><p> </p><p>With four maniacs chasing after you, you knew you should be shitting yourself but for some bizarre reason, you found yourself high off of the chase. God, they had really hit you hard over the head. Or maybe it was just your lack of food. Oh well. Was insanity contagious? It sure seemed it. </p><p> </p><p>You rounded a corner and clambered up a flight of rusted stairs. The crunch of heavy boots on metal was a few steps behind you. They were going to catch up sooner or later. You couldn't outrun them but you could outsmart them. The knuckleheaded dumbasses had fooled for your quick wit once before you were going to make sure they fell for it again. Coming to the top of the stairs you took a sharp right, sliding under a half-broken door. </p><p> </p><p>You struggle to suppress a giggle as a loud ‘thump’ followed by a loud ‘fuck’ rings out behind you. Someone clearly didn't see the door there. You ran further into the room. The floor was slick with damp mould and the walls were bare. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. There was a window but it was boarded up.</p><p> </p><p>Welp, there goes ‘outsmarting them’. You could fight- </p><p> </p><p>A rough hand yanked your hair and you scream. Falling back into whoever gripped your hair, you try to swing the hatchet into their hand ultimately slicing off a chunk of your hair. You fell to the floor hatchet dropping out of your grip and left wrist taking the brunt of the fall. </p><p> </p><p>You cry out only to be cut off by a solid boot slamming into the small of your back. You can’t even regain your breath before a pair of thighs are straddling your waist. A gloved hand choked you as a solid object is slammed beside your head. </p><p> </p><p>“You sure are a masochistic l-little shit. Master told us n-n-not to hurt you but I’m sure you won't miss a finger. Or a hand” Toby growled into your ear, joints cracking as if to accentuate his words. “Now sit still as I remove your h-hand” You wheeze out a yelp, trying to shrink away from the man above you. If only the ground would open up and swallow you whole. </p><p> </p><p>“Toby, don't. Master told us not to.” Masky croaked. Your desperate attack on him had done some damage as you noticed him limping towards Toby. Toby paid no mind to him as the grip around your neck tightened and he leaned down to breathe in your scent. A low growl penetrated your ears as the male above you pushed you further into the ground. His spare hand moved up to cares you face the dipped to lower his mouthguard. He proceeded to bury his face into your neck and bite down. </p><p> </p><p>The pain was sharp, one of your hands found itself digging into the side of Toby’s head in a poor attempt to try and get him to stop. He didn't. Just bit down harder, drawing blood. </p><p> </p><p>“I swear to god Toby, fucking listen to me. Get off of her-“</p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck u-up” he finally let go, mouth dripping red and a satisfied smirk painted his face. “Fuck off Masky, shes MINE and I choose what to do and w-what not to do with her.” He growled out, punctuating ‘MINE’ “So, remember whos boss around here. Or I might just have to go a-ahead and kill y-you off.”Toby finished and pushed himself off of you, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Yep definitely the man in charge; His aura reeked dominance.</p><p> </p><p>You tried to move. You couldn't. Still winded, you inched your good wrist up towards your neck. A sting surfaces as your fingers came into contact. He bit you. He fucking bit you. Claimed you as his. Objectified you. Fuck that. Fuck him. </p><p> </p><p>Humiliated and feeling downright sorry for yourself, you cried and cried. You didn't know what to feel anymore. Fear, anger, sadness? You were confused, no, numb. So numb that you didn't realise that you captors had rebound your limbs and Toby had hoisted you over his shoulder. Your vision blurred as ambient white noise filled the air.</p><p> </p><p>You barely acknowledged the group leaving the building and walking off towards a police car they had commandeered. You had completely dissociated. Lost it. Gave up.</p><p> </p><p>Finally fucking lost it. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was very Toby based the next will include more Jeff.</p><p> </p><p>I apologise for any grammar mistakes.</p><p>Till next time - Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Diamonds Aren't Forever   0:5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter gets confusing and is a bit of a mind fuck in places. If it seems like my writing technique has changed its because I'm new to this and I'm still working on my own style. This is my first story I am sharing with people and I am playing around with ideas so shit could get bizarre. </p><p>Yes, I know Slender-verse is different from the creepypasta fandom. I also know that Maskey (Tim) and Hoodie (Brian) from Marble Hornets are not, in fact, part of either fandom and fall in a grey area. I have only brought concepts from both Fandoms into one and created my own story. I write nothing but fiction. EVERYTHING I write is imaginative and original. I Have only posted my work to this site, so any replicas anywhere else are Copyright. If there is a story similar to mine it is a coincidence. I pull inspiration from actual authors like Stephen King, Thomas Harris, Joe Hill Ect. </p><p> </p><p>THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GORE, VIOLENCE, STRONG LANGUAGE, </p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the short time you had been legally allowed to drink alcohol, you had never experienced a headache this horrendous. Never felt so damn hungover. Nausea rolled in waves through your stomach, licked up the back of your oesophagus the plummeted back down. The slight sting of acidic bile burned the back of your throat as you wheezed for air. Note to self never drink again- </p><p> </p><p>Drink? What drink, you haven't been drinking? Had you? No. Booze wasn't to blame. You had hit your head… Hard by the feel of it. Blood was stained upon your tongue. Must have really knocked it. You couldn't open your eyes. Couldn't move. Didn't want to. Shifting by merely an inch would drown you in incomprehensible delirium. A fever you couldn't sweat. A madness that would fade in time. But a madness nonetheless. You just had to sit still and deal with it. Choke down the sickness. </p><p> </p><p>So you did. You stilled yourself, gathering your bearings and tried again; slowly this time. Right one sense at a time. Smell, what can you smell? Dust? No, damp, you can smell damp… and something else. Something metallic, sharp. Something underlying sinister.</p><p> </p><p>Now sound, what can you hear? You focus… nothing. Nothing but a low hum of static. The white noise devouring all sound that dares compete against it. It's a sound that unnerves you but you can't quite understand why. Can't find its cutting edge. </p><p> </p><p>Sight. You slowly peel your eyelids back. Darkness. a shadow of unknown falls before you. A thick curtain of gloom. It's fuzzy, you've been out for a while. Eyes off focus and vision spinning. You can’t see anything. </p><p> </p><p>Taste? Blood. Rich crimson stuck to the roof of your mouth. Vile.</p><p> </p><p>Touch? You move your hands. A numbness spreads down your arm, you can't feel your fingers. They won't move, can't move. However, you can tell they're suspended and have been for a while. Blood was barely gracing the tips of your fingers and your palms ached with agonizing need for oxygen. Why the hell are your arms hanging in mid-air? And why were they stuck? What the actual fuck- </p><p> </p><p>No. Oh God no. Like the crash after a bad trip, it all hit you at once. A whirlwind of memories overwhelming your senses yet, clearing the fog. You tugged and pulled at your hands, stirring up a panic attack. Hyperventilating you feared you’d pass out. Dread washed through you, gaged you of air as you coughed and spluttered. Oblivious the creaking of a nearby door, welcoming the devil into your current abode. </p><p> </p><p>And in the devil came, room chilling, shadows darkening. You froze, still unaware of your company, a queasiness settled inside of you. You don't know why you felt like this, couldn't hit the nail. Didn't want to know. Ignorance is bliss and you lived by that. </p><p> </p><p>Life, however, despised you, spat in your face threw you into the jaws of hell and satan spat you back out. Or, life just wasn’t through with you, wanted the last laugh, wanted to kick you to the ground. You were a puppet, a rag doll made to be beaten, pulled apart stitch by stitch. If God really existed he, the devil and Jesus probably had bets on when you’d finally kick the bucket. Finally fucking die. But hey ho, you weren’t dead yet and you felt like whoever- whatever was in this room with you would remind you of that. </p><p> </p><p>A solid kick to the ribs confirmed this. Pain ripped across your side as you wrists were wrenched hard in their restraints. You didn’t cry out or scream. Voiced no pain. You couldn't but you wanted to. The desire to scream, wail, even whimper had never been so strong in your life but you couldn't. Your throat wouldn’t allow it. So instead, you hunched. Tilted your head forwards and shook, spasming at every intake of breath. </p><p> </p><p>Another kick. Another silent scream. Bloody and bruised. Violent and strong. </p><p> </p><p>You sat there. The dusty floor cold beneath you, blood staining it. All you could hear was white noise and the ‘ba-dump’ of your stuttering heart. ‘Ba-dump’ and your head was hammered into the wall. ‘Ba-dump’, ankle stomped on. ‘Ba-dump’, there goes your vision. ‘Ba-dump’... ‘ba-dump’, nothing. </p><p> </p><p>Wait, no. </p><p> </p><p>You couldn't be. Could you? The white noise was gone, you couldn't hear your heart. Maybe Satan had at long last decided to feast on your soul. You were dead. Free from torment. Free from-</p><p> </p><p>“You are not dead, my child.” Did heaven have a spare bed? Were you a decent enough human to actually land yourself a spot in the grand paradise of- “As I said before, you are not deceased.” Jesus Christ- “I am not of any religious relevance and you are not in the presence of a god.” Welp, guess you were in hell. “LISTEN TO ME!!” A loud boom of static followed by a deafening demand. “YOU WILL lISTEN TO ME. You are not dead, nor alive. I have disconnected your conscience from your body.” What the actual fuck. How? Why? “I need you to be able to fully function and you can not if you’re injured. I’ve let my Proxies beat you half to death in order to trigger your Berserker backgrounds. As of now, you are but a sleeper with little potential, however, upon the brink of death you will transform into a half breed. Half berserker half sleeper. You will bend at my will and complete the tasks I set out for you. Fail to comply and I’ll let my revenants have their way with you. I BELIEVE I HAVE MADE MYSELF CLEAR”</p><p> </p><p>Then it cut off. Whatever ‘it’ was, it was gone. Buttoned like a dodgy call. Ended with an uproar of static. </p><p> </p><p>Then nothing. Nothing but revolting nausea, forcing bile up and out. Leaning forward, you raised your hands to your face, trying to rub at your eyes. They slammed into something hard but moved none the less- wait moved. No shackles? Was it all a nightmare. A horrible dream destined to be forgotten in about five minutes. You hoped so. What time was it? God that medication the hospital gave you must have really fucked with your head.</p><p> </p><p>“Lean forward.” Who the fuck? A voice came from beside you. A low hum of a voice, gravely yet smooth, fucking terrifying. You jolted backwards. Only to get your hair ragged to the high heavens and face shoved into a metal bucket. You pushed back but another round of vomiting had you jerking forwards, head back in the bucket. The hand in your hair tightened as you finished. You pulled your face from the bucket, grimacing at the pungent scent. Momentarily forgetting about the hand fisting your hair. </p><p> </p><p>A sharp tug targets your attention over to your company. You glance over, eyes trailing up their arm, up their neck, up to their face. You screech, a demonic sound, throat still tight from forcing up your guts. The sound seems to startle them- It. you don’t know what you’re looking at, but whatever it is, it oozes animosity. Your eyes are still trained on its face- well mask. An inky blue oval covers its face. The indication there anything underneath are the two jagged eye holes. Tow jagged eyes holes seeping a tar-like substance, tears? Blood? Whatever was in front of you was not human. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop panicking, I’ve been instructed not to hurt you. I can hear your heart beating at an irregular pace. You need to calm down.” Frozen, you watched wide-eyed as the thing before you unravelled his hand from your hair and stalked away from you. He moved with utter elegance like a cat would on a hunt. Definitely not human. </p><p> </p><p>He walked over to a ridiculously rusted cabinet and pulled out some black fabric your eyes followed his every movement, watching as he gripped a pair of combat boots. He turned back towards you, head tilting sideways as he mimicked your curious glare.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a bathroom down the hall. Try to run and I’ll see to it that you experience hell.”  you nodded, not knowing why you buckled to his command. You shifted upright, legs dangling over the edge of the table you were laying on. A cool breeze caressed your stomach- wait, what? </p><p> </p><p>Oh shit. </p><p> </p><p>It dawned on you, drenched you in white-hot embarrassment. You were pretty much naked. The only scrap of decency you had was your underwear. Apart from that, you were completely exposed. Leaping to your feet desperate to get out of the sightlines of the creature before you stumbled. Miscalculating how jelly-like your legs would be.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been out for two weeks, take your time.” Two whole fucking weeks! There was no care in its voice, only calculated, sardonic commentary. You trembled as your feet structured over the bathroom, bracing yourself on the wall. Much to your dismay, the bathroom had no door, no pricy and held only a toilet, a cracked sink and a half smashed mirror. </p><p> </p><p>The creature was right behind you as you braced yourself against the sink. Head dropping in shame. Sadistic cunt. It handed you a pile of clothes, dropped the boots and strutted over to the door frame and leaned on it. </p><p> </p><p>You eyed it over your shoulder, thank the lord it had its back to you. You didn’t want to piss in front of it but whos to deny the call of nature. Squatting over the rim of the ancient-looking toilet you dropped your undergarments and relived yourself. You couldn't tell what was worse. Playing rabbit and being hunted down by four lunatics or having to piss in the presence of some demonic creature. You’d much rather place bets on a game of chess with the devil. </p><p> </p><p>As you were flushing the toilet a voice tickled the back of your ear as a puff of breath licked the back of your neck. “You should hurry up. Keeping them waiting is a bad idea.” Yelping, you launched yourself towards the sink, trying to conceal yourself. A murmur of a chuckle left its lips as you retrieved the clothes and struggled to pull them on. </p><p> </p><p>Once again It walked over to the door this time facing you. You turned, back at its face as you dragged at two-sizes-to-big pair of black jeans on. It had given you a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve black t-shirt, a thick hoodie, socks and a pair of combat boots. All too big except for the boots. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, face gaunt, body slim. You had a naturally skinny build but now you were wasting away. Hair looking thin and hands bony.</p><p> </p><p>“Follow me” You heard it walking away, you followed not wanting to anger it. You didn’t know what it could do, what it was capable of. Shuffling out of the bathroom you watched it open a heavy bolted door and start ascending a flight of narrow stairs. “If you fall behind you may perish.” Its tone was teasing but the threat hung thick in the air. You picked up the pace now only three steps behind him. </p><p> </p><p>The stairs lead to a rather flimsy looking door, nothing like its brother at the bottom. Your new-found ‘friend’ drew a chain of keys out of his pocket and started unlocking the door. </p><p> </p><p>“I need you to stay as close to me as you can. On the other side of this door are things that could either seriously hurt you or kill you and I don’t want to have to deal with master’s wrath due to your incompetence.” Well fuck me, you were dead, screwed. You might as well throw yourself down the stairs and take the easy way out and pray that you snap your neck on the way down-</p><p> </p><p>Your thoughts are cut short when a hand wraps around your wrist and drags you up the remaining three steps. The door is opened and your eyes are greeted with bright light. Is this the light at the end of the tunnel? You’re dragged through the doorway and almost throw up again. A rancid stench chokes you. You grimace, trying to keep up with the fast pace your being dragged at. You glance around, walls stained brown and red. Carpet ripped up and floorboards splintered. The ceiling was even caving in in some places, slick with mould. Once upon a time, this might have been a grand building; Built by the greatest. Now, it was in disarray, a painful sight. </p><p> </p><p>You rounded another corner and stopped dead. It was still dragging you. You pulled away, well tried to, it wouldn’t let go. You freaked out, clawing at the grip it had around your wrist. Before you stood ‘Him’. Goggles pushed up and hood down, the same stained mouthguard still smothering his face. Toby stood upright as soon as he spotted you, head tilting to the side, hand twitching fro the handle of his hatchet. Clearly sinking a hatchet into his ribs didn’t please him. Subconsciously your free hand raised up to where he bit you. There was a slightly raised scar. Fucking cunt! Your anger wasn’t as strong as your fear though.</p><p> </p><p>“So the little human f-finaly decided to wake t-the fuck up.” Nice to see you too, hows your ribs? The bastard acted as though you had wasted his time as though he hadn’t been the one to knock you the fuck out. A remark was clawing at the back of your teeth but you refused to speak. Refused to satisfy his attempts at riling you up. </p><p> </p><p>You turn away not wanting to risk pissing him off. You only just woke back up. Sure you deserved to be angry but all that glitter ain’t gold. But it’s still fucking beautiful- shut up, god, I’m going crazy. </p><p> </p><p>“The others are at the table, I’ll t-take her. Thanks, Jack.” To your utter horror, your new-found ‘friend’ handed you over to the devil and casually walked away. Not before throwing your mental state down the stairs one last time.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Toby. make sure she doesn’t rip her internal stitching. She fragile.” Your face drops. Internal stitching. Did they fuck you up that much? Holly shit you were going to die. As if on cue, a slight ache starts to throb across your left side. Oh dear.</p><p> </p><p>“Little Masochist, try to run away from me again and I might just have my good O’le friend J-Jack remove your p-pretty little legs~.” The lilt in his voice was sultry like he enjoyed the thought of you in pain, lapped it up as a cat would milk. You backed off, naturally tried to avoid him. He only chuckled and gripped you by the upper arm. Like a mother would a misbehaving, child he dragged you through a series of doors then preceded to shove you unnecessarily hard through a set of double doors.</p><p> </p><p>You landed on your knees a whimper leaping from your mouth before you could catch yourself. You pushed to your feet, rubbing your stinging hands together. Embarrassment spreading across your cheeks once more. You glance up, embarrassment quickly replaced with paling, raw fear. The whole gang was in front of you plus some. </p><p> </p><p>At the head of the table sat Jeff in all his glory, grinning in malice. Obviously happy to see you in such a fragile, vulnerable state. All bruised and bloodstained. Next to him sat something you could barely explain. It looked like a Penny wise but monochrome. It was tall, towered over jeff and it was sat down. It had shaggy black hair that had never met a hairbrush and ridiculously sharp looking claws. Whatever it was, you didn’t want it to come anywhere near you. Next to that sat Masky, mask half pushed up and a lit cigaret between his lips. A sizable bruise kissed just below his eye. Must have happened when he face planted the steering wheel. You didn’t look at him long in fear of triggering him. Next to him was his hooded friend, still nameless and fucking terrifying.</p><p> </p><p>Across from the monochrome ‘, Penny Wise’ sat a rather normal looking female. Or so you thought. She turned her head towards you and you almost had a heart attack. Her left eye was crudely replaced with a broken looking clock. Not to mention she also had a Chelsea grin, however, hers was stitched unlike Jeff’s. Next to her sat another female, she reminded you of Morticia from The Adams Family. White skin, just as pale as Jeff’s. Her face though creeped you out. It was porcelain, mask-like; probably was a mask. It matched Masky’s, however, her eyes were pitch black. Next to her was an empty seat and the other head of the table was yet again an empty seat.</p><p> </p><p>Toby shoved you in the direction of the empty head-of-the-table-chair and forced you to sit down. He then sat down next to the black-eyed girl. Silence fell over the table. No one spoke, all eyes were on you. Were you supposed to say something? What were you supposed to do?-</p><p> </p><p>“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), daughter of Matthew Booker. Matthew Booker, the deputy CEO of Orbital and Head of project E.O.U.E. Am I correct?” What the fuck is going on. How the hell did they know your name and know about your father? God, you hadn’t heard his name in years. Literally a decade. “I said am I correct?”  The hooded figure next to Masky persisted. </p><p> </p><p>Honestly, you had no clue who that was. Had absolutely no idea who the hell Matthew Booker was. He could be your father. After all your father left when you were eight and never came back. Your parents were never married so you got your mother’s last name. And being eight you only ever called him ‘dad’ and not his real name. Your mother never mentioned him once he had left, you were convinced as a young child that he had died. You never even saw him after he walked out. He was but a blurred face is forgotten somewhere in your memories.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m guessing by your confused face that y-you have never heard of him and in fact don’t know your real dad,” Toby concluded, stealing the words out of your mouth. “And that you have never even heard of Orbital.” it was more of a statement than a question. Yes, you had heard of Orbital but didn’t know what they did. And god knows what E.O.U.E was. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, (Y/N), your father has become a person of interest and you’re going to be the one the help track him down. You see Mr Booker has developed a team of specialists with skills designed to take us and our Master down. They have developed a secret weapon capable of killing us.” Ok hold on buddy, you kidnapped me for this bullshit? You were speechless. The fuckery that enveloped your life was all because of your dickhead father. “You’re going to help us find him and figure this all out.” Nope, not going to happen, not today satan. “If you fail us you will suffer a fate worse than death.” the hooded figure finished, leaving you a truckload of unanswered questions.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, fuck this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I apologise for any grammatical mistakes and I'm sorry if this is confusing at times. It will unravel its self in future chapters.</p><p> </p><p>Till next time - Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Get Out Alive   0:6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sure you know the warnings by now.</p><p>There is some heavy language in this. I do apologise but it's hard not to make masky an absolute prick.</p><p> </p><p>WARNING VIOLENCE PROFANITY MINOR DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE BLAH BLAH BLAH   you have been warned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything was so overwhelming. You must be out of your mind. The medication must have caused you to hallucinate and create this scenario. It’s not real. nothing’s real. Am I real? Oh god, what happens if I’m not? If nothing I know is really real? Shut up! Get a fucking grip!-</p><p> </p><p>You stood, air! You need air. You push the chair over hands slamming on the tabletop. You can’t breathe. Everything overwhelms you. You fear you might pass out, fear your knees will buckle. You back hunches, you can hear movement before you but everything is blurred, you can’t see. Your head drops and you back away, all sounds heightening. Were you having a panic attack? </p><p> </p><p>Someone walks in front of you, you lash out slamming your hand into what feels like a nose. ‘Crack.’ Oh god, Oh no. was that my hand? Did I hurt one of them?- Good, they deserve to hurt. Look at the mess they dragged you into. Conflicted you turned, head in your hands and shaking violently. maybe you were crazy. Mad as a hatter and as insane as the psychos behind you.</p><p>No. You haven’t lost it. You just had to get your shit together, toughen up a bit, grow a pair. I'm dead. You felt a hand start to curl around your wrist. Nope, not today satan. You yanked the limb away and bolted, you ran straight into a solid chest. A hand leapt towards your throat and held you there. You choked, spluttered pleaded to be let go. That you wouldn’t tell anyone, that you were useless. The person only chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>It sent shivers down your spine, the fist around your throat tightened. Jeff. Out of everything you'd been through, Jeff scared you the most. Sure Toby had his fair share of dishing out trauma but Jeff, Jeff was something else. He had an animosity about him. The way he wore his Cheshire smile with pride told you that he wasn't afraid of pain and didn’t give a shit who he hurt. He also seemed to be the most eager to batter you, push you around, use you. Out of everyone, Jeff was the last person you'd want choking you. Yet here you were. Weak, limp limed and pathetic.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen here sweetcheeks, I’d love to pin you to that wall and rip your guts out but rules have been set and sadly your more useful with your intestines on the inside. I will warn you though, try to run again and I'll get my good ole’ friend Jack to remove a leg… Or two.” With that, he dropped you, dropped you right on your ass. Huffing, you tried to calm down. Tried to quell the oncoming breakdown. You had to. Had to screw your head back on. You didn't need your wings clipped, couldn't afford it. After all, everyone wants to make it out alive… and in one piece.</p><p> </p><p>You needed to think, stay level headed, find a way out, play by the game. What game exactly? God only knows. Right, time to focus. Hone in on a weakness and abuse it. Suckle it dry.  </p><p> </p><p>Shakily, you stood. The glares of your company egged you on as you now stood straight and tried not to wobble. Life was cruel and you couldn't stop the jumping of your jaw. Hands shaking, you took a deep breath. Everything will be fine. No, it won't-</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, w-what do I-I-I need to do?” You choked out the words, faining confidence. Hoping that Jeff or someone would spare you the benefit of the doubt and help you understand what the hell was going on. After all, you weren't originally a part of this gruesome circus; so naturally, you had no fucking clue about anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we need you to convince your father to tell you where he is based and get him to tell you what exactly he uses to get rid of us,” Masky replied bluntly. Well, that fucking helped. </p><p> </p><p>“I don't know my father. I have no relationship with him, I wouldn't even be able to remember his first-” </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up!” Jeff. he was behind you once more, hands on your shoulders, fingers pressing into your shoulder blades. Fear tore into you once more; ate you up and swallowed you whole.“Now, sweetcheeks. We don't give a fuck; Couldn't care less whether you know him or not but sadly you’re our last resort. And we have to make do with what we have, meaning I can't gut you and you get to keep your head attached to that pretty little neck of yours.” His fingers dug into your flesh eliciting a whimper from you. “So, you will do as we say and get the needed information. Understand?” You nodded, mouth too dry for words throat too tight for air. </p><p> </p><p>Jeff didn't let go though. You wanted to run, hide. But no, you were stuck, kidnapped. Held Hostage in a situation you couldn't control, the cards were against you. You were in checkmate, merely a pawn to be toyed with, broken, then discarded in a bloody mush. Jeff only egged on the dreaded thoughts as his hand began to trail down your spine: His index and middle finger getting caught on every notch in your spine. Naturally, you pulled away, well, tried too. Jeff's other hand was quick to slither around your shoulder and cup your jaw. His touch was uncharacteristically soft, almost comforting, almost. It quickly changed to that of ill intent as he dug ripped nails into your jaw and pushed his face into the crook of your neck.</p><p> </p><p>“On second thought, I'd much rather have you all to myself.” You sharply inhale. Oh god, oh no. The hand on your back snuck round to cup your hip whilst the one on your jaw tilted your head up. Flashes of what toby had done to you appeared before you in a blur of spotted grey. He was going to bite you. Your eyes widened as they frantically searched around the room for someone to free you, someone to stop him. No one was paying attention to you though. All either immersed in conversation or missing. Jeff chuckled in your ear as if sensing your rising uncomfortable terror. “Now, now, hold still.” He bit down, teeth tearing into your flesh, the jagged edges of his cut grin scraping against your delicate flesh. You whimpered, didn't dare scream for fear that it might egg him on. </p><p> </p><p>Disgust washed over your form, turning your fear to sparking anger. You wanted to lash out, watch your captors bleed. Watch them suffer. You would not be treated as an object, claimed, branded like cattle. You were more than that. Anger fizzed into a blazing inferno as he removed his teeth and groaned. You wanted to spin and let your fist do the talking. You knew what would happen if you did that. knew how the consequences would pan out. One measly bite was nothing compared to the pain he, and everyone else, in this hell hole, could bestow on you. Best not chance it.</p><p> </p><p>So you did what you knew would dampen your anger. “Fuck you.” Always the fuck you. A punch in the face when your hands are tied. A big fat ‘fuck you’ would suffice for now.</p><p> </p><p>Jeff only chuckled then licked up a trail of blood seeping down your collar bone. You shuddered, craving a shower or something to wash him off of you. Concentrated bleach sounded good. Oh, how you hated him. Every fibre in your body screamed ‘kill it’ NO ‘run away, leg it get out alive!’-</p><p> </p><p>A harsh yank on your wrist tore you from your thoughts and Jeff’s vice-like grip. Pain blossomed across the bridge of your nose as you face planted a solid chest. Fuck. Toby.</p><p> </p><p>“Back Off Toby.” </p><p> </p><p>A deep rumble sounded from toby’s chest as his arm wound around you; the other de-sheathed an axe. You stood frozen, not even shaking. Something clattered to the floor in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite reach your ears. All you could focus on was making yourself feel as small as possible because this was no longer your fight. You were out of the game, demoted to being the grand prize.</p><p> </p><p>Mind screaming ‘fuck that’, you had to fight the urge to scream out that, no, you weren’t an object. No, you weren’t to be fought over. That you owned yourself. But you bit your tongue instead whilst squeezing your eyes shut. </p><p> </p><p>You stayed like that for what felt like a Millenial. Despite the rally of threats and yelling, Toby’s body barely moved. There was the odd twitch here and there but he refused to either go on the offensive or stand down. However, the axe was still drawn and Jeff’s threats were becoming personal. </p><p> </p><p>It was all going to kick-off, go to shit, fall apart and being smack bang in the middle did nothing but reignite the embers of your previous episode. You had to getaway. Get far, far away and fast. God only knows at this rate you may end up with a knife lodged in your spine or a hatchet buried in your jugular possibly both. </p><p> </p><p>Adrenalin began to poison your blood because after all if you’re going to do something stupid and reckless your gonna need a backup plan in order to deal with the aftermath.  You could feel it warming your muscles and sharpening your senses. Clearing your mind. Making room for the plan.</p><p> </p><p>What plan?</p><p> </p><p>Fuck knows. ‘Roll with it’. That’s what your mother always told you. ‘When life gets really shitty and you don’t know what to do, just roll with it. All roads lead somewhere.’ You weren’t really sure if your mother was sane but who fucking cares because right now your situation wasn’t really sane. The past few months of your life hadn’t been sane. God, were you even sane at this point? </p><p> </p><p>There had to be something to come up with. Something that might just buy you enough time to make it to the front door so you can bolt away to freedom. What to do? Toby’s hatchet.</p><p> </p><p>Left arm shooting up and right shooting out, you managed to force your palm up into toby’s jugular whilst pulling his other hatchet free. Toby swayed backwards as he let go of you and tumbled into the table. A horrid wheezing scratch can from his mouth and he made a futile attempt to gulp down air. </p><p> </p><p>Shit, Jeff. </p><p> </p><p>As much as you wanted to wipe him clean out of your mind he was still a threat in this situation and judging but the incoming march of heavy boots you only had a split second to gain the upper hand. Swinging the hatchet, it socked him square in the side of the ribs. Ouch. A grumble of profanity spewed from his lips as a deafening crack bounced off of the room’s walls. Welp, so much for playing by their game rules. </p><p> </p><p>Something shifted behind you drowning you in terror. How had he recovered in a mere few seconds? You really had fallen into the devil’s playground. You swept your eyes across the room. Nothing but a chipped table and faded, striped wallpaper presented its self to you. It was just you three. Well, at least you didn’t have to deal with anyone else quite yet. Jeff was hunched on his knees and appeared to be coughing up his lungs, whilst Toby was slowly regaining the ability to stand. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, little masochist... Your FUCKING D-Done for!” Toby leered. And that’s the fucking cue for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Staggered footsteps began to approach you as toby continued to choke on air.</p><p> </p><p>Making a beeline for the front door a slight issue presented its self to you. Where the fuck was the front door? No time to think and no time to plan you ran out into a hallway of sorts. The carpet, stiff with built-up dirt and sticky with go knows what seemed to lead down the never-ending hallway. Still, you pressed on. There were two savage beasts tailing you. your and Jeff’s previous little chat with you shook you up big time. No way was you about to let either of them get their hands on you.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bounding down the heavily neglected hallway you tried your best no to trip on the random piles of debris. You could only imagine the horrors that went on in a place like this. What actually went on was incomprehensible, pure evil. After all, this was nothing but a slaughterhouse.</p><p> </p><p>The hallway was now coming to an end. You rounded a corner nearly flying down the stairs that lay in wait there but you managed to keep a grip on your balance and make it to the bottom without faceplanting. The room before you looked like the main front hall. A heavy wooden door framed the room, your way out. You leged it towards the door not even noticing the company already here. Your hands reached out ready to grip and twist the handle but you never made it.</p><p> </p><p>A kaleidoscope of colours blurred into one as the door shrunk away in the distance. Blood filled your mouth as pain radiated across your back. Oh fuck. Had they already caught up to you? You skidded across the floor and collided shoulder first with the bottom of the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Before you could even grasp what had happened a mass of burnt yellow and white pinned you down. The sickly sweet smell of cigarets and rubbing alcohol choked you as you screeched in pain. </p><p> </p><p>“Where the fuck do you think your going, cunt.” Could your situation get any worse? Maskey’s gravely voice scent a surge of anger throughout you. Did he really have to get in the way? Was his existence fucking necessary? You could only hope his hooded buddy wasn’t around the corner. </p><p> </p><p>Miraculously, whilst you were getting rugby tackled by the masked maniac, you managed to keep your grip on Toby’s hatchet. Realising this you swung your now aching limb back and embedded the heavy object in the man’s thigh. Crimson stained the floor and soaked your legs. </p><p> </p><p>The sound that tore from Mskeys throat as the hatched ate into the flesh of his thigh was beyond demonic. He threw himself off of you accidentally pushing the hatchet deeper. Internally you cheered but that soon turned to terror as you not only heard the thumping of your previous hunters bounding down the stairs but Maskey shouting for his hooded companion. </p><p> </p><p>Fear of the violence that would fall upon you if they got their hands on you, fueled the rush of adrenalin that enabled you to roll away from your latest victim and stand. Standing wasn’t the hard part, the hard part would be keeping the distance between you and your deadly kidnappers. Without a weapon to defend yourself, keeping out of their reach would be necessary. </p><p> </p><p>You glance up the stairs and you wish you hadn’t toby was halfway down and showed no signs of your previous assault. Jeff was a few steps from the top with his left hand clutching his ribs and his right griping his precious knife. Turning, you push off of the bannister to gain speed and headed back towards the door. </p><p> </p><p>Almost slipping on Maskey’s blood, you made it halfway before toby hit the bottom of the stairs. It was a race against death at this point. Shire luck could only help you fight off the devil. Remarkably your fingertips graced the doorknob and began to twist.</p><p> </p><p>The latch clicked open and you pulled the door open. Euphoria raced through you. You were free. Well not quite yet. You open the door just enough for you to slip through then slammed it shut. A loud bang followed by a string of cursed and yelling told you that both Toby and Jeff had collided with the solid block of wood and ultimately gave you a mini head start. </p><p> </p><p>You bolted off of the rickety pouch catching sight of an old beaten up baseball bat. Retrieving it, the forest was in your sights. Now time to treck through this wilderness and find someone, anyone who’d help you with your serial killer problem. </p><p> </p><p>With the house a good mile behind you, you guessed you had been running for about ten minutes and sadly your adrenaline was beginning to wear off. The dull ache of your previous injuries and Maskey’s assault had all blended into one whole body migraine. Oh, how cruel the universe was. </p><p> </p><p>You slowed from your passed jog to a fast walk. With your baseball bat swinging, you pushed on. Thankfully it wasn’t dark out however, it was cloudy and when dusk comes creeping that means bad news. Because it was so cloudy you couldn't fight=re out what time it was. The grey mash of rain pregnant clouds proved once again that the universe was out to get you. </p><p> </p><p>With the threat of rain quite literarily over your head, you knew you had to find a suitable yet undetectable place to camp out. You had to disappear when it came to these guys. They were well practised and predatory in their hunt and you were prey. Prey can win though. Prey can come out on top. But only if the prey has wit and intuition.</p><p> </p><p>You switch the bat to your left hand and force yourself back into a jog. The aching seemed to subside slightly as you focused on keeping up speed. Honestly, you were surprised you hadn’t heard anything from your kidnappers. They were so keen on cadging you the first time you’d have thought they’d at least try harder to keep you cadged. And now that they had tripled in numbers if you really were that important to them they should have sent the whole goddamned house out searching for you. </p><p> </p><p>Yet here you are jogging through a forest you don't even know the name of and heading in god knows what direction.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Mephistopheles Of Los Angeles   0:7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains violence, light gore and explicit language.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cramped lunges, aching legs, you had to hide. If only you could vanish into thin air, disappear off of the face of the earth for a few hours. Why, oh why was the universe against you? If karma really is a bitch then you must have been a cult leader in your past life.</p><p> </p><p>Luck really wasn’t on your side these past few months and any luck you had left was evaporating, fast.</p><p> </p><p>After hours of walking the sky had slowly slipped into dusk and your only means of light were fading. And to make matters worse you swore you heard something behind you less than five minutes ago. </p><p>On the bright side, a dim light glowed up ahead yet you were skeptical. No one wants to walk toward the light, especially when that light could mean a painful demise. So, instead, you decided to circle round the light, slowly edging towards it but from the side. You couldn't afford to fuck up now. Freedom was in your reach and all you wanted to do was grab that motherfucker and choke it to death.</p><p>As you got closer to the dim glow it began to take shape. An old rusted, flickering lamppost stood about 25 yards away from you. Civilization? A road maybe? </p><p>There were no cars. If this road got used often you would have heard cars a mile back of two. Well a lamppost is something, right? Probably an old B road. Thankfully B roads are built for a reason and usually lead to housing. Houses equal people. People equal help. All you had to do now was find someone willing to-</p><p> A long shadow leapt under the light, momentarily plunging you into darkness. You staggered backward, whatever had just passed in front of you was big and potentially dangerous. You couldn’t see whether it was human-shaped or not because as soon as it appeared it vanished. Maybe you just imagined it?</p><p>And that’s when you heard it again. The ‘step’ ‘step’ ‘crunch’ behind you. You knew you weren't imagining that.</p><p>Adrenalin kicked you into overdrive and to your amazement, it managed to kick you into a full-fledged sprint. Despite your fatigue piled on top of your injuries, you moved forward. Agile and careful not to trip on any roots, whilst still keeping the lamppost in your peripheral vision you bolted. Whatever had been tracking you was coming at you from your left, so you gripped the bat in your right fist and readied it to swing.</p><p>Fear flooded your senses as the light from the lamp began to fade. Knowing, you were done for if you lost the light you took a sharp right, running back towards it. The dim glow returned, however, your hunter was beginning to close in. </p><p>You had to lose them.</p><p>You knew there were at least two out here and you were sure neither of them was Toby. Toby would have buried a hatchet between your shoulders, pinned you down and dragged your half-dead body back to hell. It wasn’t Masky either. You’d done enough damage to him to put him out of use for a few days. That meant you were stuck with Jeff and the hooded figure.</p><p>You didn’t know much about the hooded figure but Jeff, you knew enough about him to possibly get out alive. You knew that Jeff was a hunter, he liked the chase. If you could find a hiding place, wait out the night and pray that the fuck-head of a joker reject and his red-eyed buddy pass you; freedom would be on the horizon. </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>You whimpered in terror as you crushed you back further against the upturned roots of a fallen tree. Unable to see anything in the cover of darkness, you turn your head to the side. Hoping, praying to hear something, anything that would tell of his whereabouts. </p><p>You’d been here, cowering for hours. Fearing for your own life. Praying to whoever was up there because he was back. Back with an unfathomable vengeance. He was going to torment and torture you. Make you writhe in pain bleed you red. </p><p>You knew you had to hide from Jeff. Jeff was strong, fast and ridiculously durable. You didn’t take into account that Toby would show up seconds after you found the perfect hiding spot. An upturned oak was your only feasible choice. Not that there was much of a choice but you managed to slip under the roots and bury yourself and Jeff walked right over you.</p><p>Then you waited, waited and waited. Waited until your silence was interrupted by the reaper himself. A heavy set of footsteps were closing in on you followed by that sinister ‘snap’, ‘crack’, yet nothing happened. They would walk around the tree and then disappear back off into the thick woods. He must have done this 7 times now. Sending you closer to a heart attack with each close call. </p><p>God, were you ready to rot.</p><p>So here you sat, back dusty with falling dirt and hair tangled in the fine roots: listening. Listening out for anything.</p><p> </p><p>Silence. </p><p> </p><p>That's a good thing right? Silence? It means your free, for a while anyway. Surely if he was anywhere near you would hear him. That sickening pop of his neck, the chilling crack of his knuckles. You’d be able to hear the taunting footsteps, coming and going. But you heard nothing and fatigue was beginning to set in. you had to sleep, close your eyes and sleep. Slip into a state of bliss-</p><p> </p><p>A slight scuttling sound rips you out of your thoughts. A very familiar sound. Your blood freezes over as terror crawls up your spine. Life couldn't be this cruel. You turn your head ever so slightly and scream. A rusty red centipede is inches away from your face, Your hand flies to your mouth as you hear the echo bounce off the trees. Dread washes over you. He is going to find you now.</p><p> </p><p>There's no way in hell he didn't hear that. You've cornered yourself. Trapped yourself in his territory, like a fly in a web. It was only a matter of time.</p><p> </p><p>The scuttling sound continues, it's on your neck now. Whimpering, you try to shake the bug off of you only for it to bite you. You scream once more, ripping the thing from your throat. This time you knew he had heard you. You were done for.</p><p> </p><p>The sickening pop, crack of his neck told you the game was up. </p><p> </p><p>You hear him now, closing in. the blade of his hatchet embedding itself in nearby trees, only to be ripped back out. You could almost see him a dark silhouette emerging from the shadows, hatchets limp at his side. There was a slight stagger in his walk, you had hurt him. Fuck, you had hurt him. Rage rolled off of him, it was thick in the air, choking you.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't see you, surely he couldn't see you. The roots were too shadowed and you had buried yourself. Buried yourself to sleep with the rotting remains of dead life. </p><p> </p><p>‘Thwak’</p><p> </p><p>The impact caused you to fall forwards. An orange hatched had lodged itself into the thick root next to your head. He had you pinned. </p><p> </p><p>“Checkmated-doll.” A thick boot landed on your shoulder, pushing you into the dirt. A hand laced into your hair and pulled, dragging you out of the hole. One foot to you back and hands in your hair, you wailed, pleaded for your life.</p><p>No, not this again, anything but this.</p><p>Screaming you clawed at the dirt. Ripped nails grasping for anything, a stick, the baseball bat. Fucking anything. Nothing. </p><p>God was bling to your suffering. deaf to your begging. Your pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears.</p><p> </p><p>What good would begging do? It only encouraged him. Egged him on. A solid kick to the jaw shut you up. You gagged. Blood filed your mouth and choked you. He laughed. That psychotic chuckle that sent you reeling. Another sharp kick to the ribs had you gagging and heaving for oxygen-rich air.</p><p>You shifted to lay on your side as a onslaught of solid kicks wrecked you. The coarse dirt below you scratched and tore at flesh as the assault continued. It was a miracle you weren't dead and a curse you were still conscious. </p><p>“Don't kill her.” Oh god, no not him. The gruff voice of Jeff just about made it to your ears. The kicks ceased and a low thump was heard behind you. “I said, don’t FUCKING kill her.” </p><p>A leather-like hand tangles itself in your hair and you were hauled limply to your feet. Cracking your eyes open, you came face to face with Jeff. A sour grimace was stretched across his features as he looked over your battered state. You glanced at your left and saw Toby face down in the dirt; not moving. Not even twitching.</p><p>Had Jeff killed him? Surely not. After all, wasn't Toby in charge of him? It didn't matter he couldn't hurt you if he couldn't breathe. Jeff on the other hand…</p><p>He could do whatever he wanted. Hurt you in unimaginable ways. Break you down. Over and over. </p><p>“Now, no more running ok?” Mock comfort laced Jeff’s voice as he brought his other hand up to caress your face. His thumb caught ghost tears as he slowly lowered you to the ground. Just as your back hit the ground a low growl came from Toby. Jeff ripped his hand out of your hair, stood and turned towards Toby.</p><p>You lay there, pain rippling through every muscle. Drowning you in an insane buzz of red spiraling agony. You were in shock. Not from your injuries but from the miracle of that which you are still alive; still clinging on to life. </p><p>A sharp yell pulls you back to reality just in time to see Toby pin Jeff to a tree. Hatchet poised ready to strike. Jeff howled in pain as the weapon buried itself in his upper arm. Toby leaped back as Jeff swung for him, maniacal laughter spewing from his lips.</p><p>You rolled on your back, testing the waters, seeing if you could move. You could. Looks like the devil hasn't signed your death warrant. Whining, you shift your weight so you're on your hands and knees. A dull ache resonates from the back of your skull all the way down to your hips and you try and steady your weight on your hands.</p><p>The odd thump and yell come from Toby and Jeff as they continue to stab, slice and attack each other. They haven't noticed you yet and you used that to crawl behind the thick trunk of an oak. </p><p>The pain in your back was beginning to numb and you felt the familiar kick of adrenaline surge through you. Gripping the tree and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you shakily stand. Jeff and Toby are still battling it out so you gingerly step backward; careful not to make any noise. </p><p>As soon as you're confident enough that you won't fall over you turn and begin to make your way back towards the low glow of the lampost. The dull light is just visible. With the low buzz of pain circulating throughout you it's hard to keep track of which way is up and even harder to follow the light.</p><p>Much to your surprise, you make it to the lamppost without Jeff and Toby following. However, it was just a lamppost. Just one lonely lamppost stood in a clearing. However, your hopes of escaping weren't entirely crushed. The clearing cut a long jagged scar into the woods and stretched a good way off into the darkness. With no other option, you ventured out into the clearing and started a hobbled jog into the unknown.</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p>The sky had begun to morph into a rich deep blue, ditching the black and ultimately slowly casts away your one and only cover. Without the cover of darkness, you had to seriously pick up the pace.</p><p>The clearing, much to your luck, had led to a small gravel path. The path itself wasn't even overgrown. Your hopes were up and flying. And to add to your brightened spirits there had been no signs of anyone following. However, the dull ache in your back and legs was still hammering your nerves making every step torturous. </p><p>The constant paranoia that loomed over you, like a thick fog, darkened with every passing minute. They could be anywhere…</p><p>Even if those two had killed each other, Masky and his pal would happily pull through and deal with you accordingly; in a much harsher manner. </p><p>Shuddering but blaming the cool early hours of the morning, you pushed the thought aside. Optimism was the only thing keeping you sane at this point and honestly, you'd rather play house with your maniacs than ‘lose it’. But you haven't ‘lost it’ so you pushed on. </p><p>The loose gravel on the path was slowly dispersing outwards before you. A driveway perhaps? You could only hope. With the sun rising you found it had to spot a small white light off in the distance. As you near it, an outline of a building came into view. A very large building. So large in fact that you had to take a step back to see the roof. </p><p>The building was an overgrown rectangle-shaped warehouse. The peeling, rusted paint spelling out ‘Trackway warehouse’ sat above a half-open garage door. The door stood between two smashed windows and behind an old pick up truck. Weeds and grass grew out of the wheels and engine. All the doors but one were ripped off, the windshield smashed and the roof caved in. Even the steering wheel was missing. All in all the truck was wrecked. The building looked to be in the same shape. </p><p>You doubted you’d find help here. No one would live in a dump like this. No one sane anyway…</p><p>Bored of staring holes into the dilapidated truck you decided to circle the warehouse in hopes of finding a road. </p><p>Nothing. </p><p>No road, no path, no gates. No fucking nothing. Growling under your breath you decided to turn back and head back towards the front of the warehouse. </p><p>Big mistake</p><p>As you rounded the corner of a warehouse, you collided with the wing mirror of a pickup truck; You had just missed the hatchet that skimmed your shoulder. The wing mirror hurt a lot less than a 30-pound hatchet, burying itself in your skin, would. You stumbled after shouldering it and fell hard on your back and managed to roll away in time to see an orange hatchet embed itself in the ground where your head was moments ago.</p><p>Dead. You were so fucking dead. </p><p>A quick glance over your shoulder had you up on your feet again. Not only was Toby here but Jeff, Masky and his hooded friend were all closing in, maybe 30 odd yards behind you. The only way out alive would be to hide. Maybe you could find a way into the warehouse… No.</p><p> </p><p>They’d corner you, trap you like a rabbit. You couldn't go back into the forest, they knew it too well. You had to think. Outsmart them. Outsmart him... </p><p> </p><p>Sprinting awkwardly around the back of an old brokedown sixteen wheeler you dropped to the floor. You had to hide. So, you rolled under it, in hopes that Toby would think you ventured inside the warehouse. A pair of filthy combat boots bolted past. He had lost you. You rolled further underneath the belly of the truck, winching when a piece of broken glass dug into your back. Much to you dismay the tires didn't offer much cover. Meaning one of the other freaks could easily spot you. You were still exposed to the psychotic killers.</p><p> </p><p>You looked behind you and saw that the cockpit’s floor was ripped apart. A hole,  just big enough for you to crawl up and into. The hole reeked of burnt leather and rotting flesh but you had to find proper cover. Hooking your hands around the base of one of the seats, you pulled yourself up, ripping your hoodie. A pricing screech left you as you came face to crotch with a rotting corpse. Your hand flew to your mouth. You gagged, choked,  vomited. </p><p> </p><p>Panic stole your vision as you crushed yourself under the dashboard. Surely he had heard you. Orange goggles glinting in the moonlight, hatchets swinging as he closed in on you. That sickening crack of his neck as he taunted you. You just hoped you could take him...</p><p> </p><p>You heard nothing. No pop of his joints, no crunch of gravel underneath his boots and no maniacal laughter. He had disappeared. You couldn't hear the others either. As the sun peeked over the horizon, you curled up and prayed that they would leave. Prayed for your life.</p><p> </p><p>Your vision was blurring now. You had to stay awake. Black dots took your vision as your head slumped. A familiar crack of a neck sounded in your ears as you stilled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope everyone is coping in these troubling times. </p><p>Till next time - Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I Hate Everything About You   0:8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This next chapter should unravel some confusion the start of the story may have caused. I decided to make it a tad longer than I usually do to compensate for that last chapter being about 400 words short. :/ So please enjoy.</p><p>THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!!!!</p><p>So please read with caution. </p><p>This chapter contains violence, gore, explicit language and attempted suicide. (I am truly sorry if I trigger anyone :/)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A low buzz flew past your ear as you took a sizable bite from your jam sandwich. A million stars shone above you, the trees gently swayed in the wind and the occasional explosion of colour illuminated you as the firework show commenced. Another bite and you were giggling as the jam spilt out of the corner of your mouth and a soft hand wiped it away and you locked eyes with your company. </p><p>Another buzz pierced your ears as you glanced away from his magnetic gaze. Deep green eyes burned holes into the side of your face as you watched deep red, electric blues and gold dance across the sky. You were happy… safe. </p><p>The soft blanket protected the delicate flesh of your thighs from jagged sticks and small stones. You glance to your left again. He was gorgeous, you couldn't believe you were here. After months of backing down, pushing away your feelings and denying everything; you plucked up the courage to tell him. No more than a week later he asked you out and here you were watching a beautiful firework display with him by your side. His chestnut brown hair was slightly messy from the wind and his freckled cheeks sunkissed from working at his dad’s junkyard. </p><p>You absolutely adored him, loved him...maybe. You’d kiss him if your friends weren't 5 metres away. Dan, Leah and Macey were sat watching the display. It was a tradition for your little group to go watch the sky explode every year. This time, you had a date. This time things were different.</p><p>Of course, your friends couldn't leave you alone, though. And so, a few hours later, after a few drinks, your date had to go home. That was the last time you’d see him. He offered you a ride home but you politely declined. Afterall it was tradition to get wasted in a field with your friends and you weren’t about to stop that.</p><p>As the beer bottles emptied and the vodka came out, everyone was just about ready to start the last tradition. 21 dares. </p><p>Every year your little group would see who had the most embarrassing secret and exploit it for laughs. This year the juicy secrets weren’t very juicy. So you ramped up the dares. Biggest mistake of your life. Who knew a silly little game would cause such damage. It completely ruined your life.</p><p>The game started off with measly dares and pointless truths. It was only a matter of time till the vodka would run out and you’d all be tipsy enough to ramp up the game to what you all called ‘ the god tier’. This is where the game got messy… It went from sending a rather explicit text message to an ex about how you’d like to ‘do’ them, all the way up to spray painting ‘ACAB’ on the side of a cop car. Not to mention all of the dares had a forfeit; the same forfeit. </p><p>The forfeit was legendary, so well known that it was a common forfeit even in other groups. It was worse than playing Russian roulette, worse than trying to drive a motorbike blindfolded. No one dared fuck with the forfeit.</p><p>You didn’t understand why there was such hype over it. It was beyond childish and unholily overrated. So, Leah dared you to go fuck one of your ex’s, your only way out was the forfeit. Like hell were you going to do ‘that’ dare. Off to the forest, you went.</p><p>The forfeit was simple enough, go into the forest and find the shack. Then take a short video of your going inside and then you’re done. You had never really looked into why the dilapidated hunting shack had such a fear ranking, nor did you really care. Sure you had heard ‘some stories, a man killing his wife and three children in cold blood, a suicide victim and a deranged serial killer using it a base came every once in a while; the list went on. In all the stories you heard the forest surrounding the shack was always referred to as the dark forest. Some wacko Harry Potter fan probably came up with it. </p><p>The dark forest was the tail end of a nature reserve spanning 600 miles. Trackway forest, so dense and unexplored that he who dares venture in its shadows may not come back out alive. </p><p>Bullshit.</p><p>You arrived at the edge of the forest at thirteen minutes past one. You would have gotten there sooner if Dan and Macey hadn’t decided to go buy more alcohol. they said you 'needed the liquid courage', 'needed a boost of stupidity'. Only the stupid ventured into 'the dark forest'. Only the stupid dared fuck with the forfeit.</p><p>Guess you were stupid then.</p><p>You stood before the forest. The smell of rain was ridding heavy on the back of a small breeze. Your friends were behind you, leaves rustling under Leah as she shifted nervously. You turned towards her, neck cracking, expecting to meet her worried gaze but her hazel orbs were trained elsewhere. Her eyes were fixed on the burnt remains of Pike crescent.</p><p>Pike crescent. Victim of the worst arson to ever scar this town and home of 40 dead. Five years ago the majority of Pike crescent was burned and flattened to ashes. You were sat in history class when news got out, your seat buddies parents perished. The whole street was burning for three days straight. It was too hot for the firefighters to do much, they just had to let it run its course. No one really knows what happened that night but officials said a boy (seventeen at the time) was the culprit but they never got to press charges. He too perished. Well, that’s what they said anyway about a year after the whole incident they put out a search warrant for Tobias Erin Rogers.</p><p>He was dangerous, very dangerous. Only seventeen stabbed his father to death and then lit the whole street on fire whilst fleeing the cops. A few survivors said they saw him die in that fire others said he legged it into the forest. The very forest you were about to venture into. Whatever happened that day, happened five years ago. Dead or alive, Tobias Erin Rogers was long gone. </p><p>The street still held weight over the town though. It was like staring down a barrel of a loaded gun.</p><p>You saw Leah shiver then turn to face you, fear evident in her gaze. “Listen, (y/n) you don’t have to do this if you don’t want-”</p><p>You cut in, not wanting her to waste her breath. “Leah I’ll be in and out 20 minutes tops, as long as you keep your flashlight on, I won’t get lost.” No way in hell was you about to back down now. God, you wouldn't hear the end of it. Dan and Macey would take the piss out of you for years if you backed down. And honestly, who knows if the shack even existed. No one had gone looking for it since the fire.</p><p>“Yeah, don’t worry Leah. (Y/n), we’ll wait right here.” Dan ripped you out of your thoughts. You turned back away from Leah and towards Dan and Macey. They were fucking around with the floodlight Dan insisted he brings every year. Relief washes over you when a strong beam temporarily blinds you, your way out of the forest was fully functional and bright as ever. Now all you had to do when you entered the forest, was to keep the light visible and not wander in too deep; simple enough. </p><p>You pull out your phone. “Forty-six percent battery and it is now half-past. Right, Macey passes me the spare torch and please for my sake don’t let the floodlight turn off when I’m inside.” Macey passes you the handheld torch as Dan sets up the floodlight so it’s illuminating the forest. You slip Leah a small and a thumbs up before venturing into the shadowy unknown.</p><p>The forest was damp underfoot, you wouldn’t hear anyone coming. You had to tread carefully not to slip and land in god knows what. You click on your torch. A lurid stream of light caresses everything up to three meters away and then slowly fades back to shadows. There’s no moon in the sky so all the light you have to rely on is the torch and the floodlight. You pull out your phone once more and its thirty-four minutes past. Twenty minutes then you’re done.</p><p>You push on, the chatter of your friends diminishes and the forest grows eerily silent. It’s like all wildlife stopped existing as soon as you crossed the tree line. You couldn't back down now. You weren't a chicken and you didn’t want to deal with Dans teasing. Anyway if you need help you could always scream.</p><p>You walked on and the floodlight bean was beginning to dim, surely the shack wasn’t far away now. You glanced off to your left and then right. A dark hunk of shadow sits about twenty meters off to your right, far too large to be a tree and far too square-shaped to be anything but the shack. You set off in that direction, swallowing the lump in your throat and failing to notice the set of footsteps four foot behind you.</p><p>The shack is an old hunter log cabin, the windows were all smashed and the door caved in. your torch revealed all of its derelict flats and floors. You stop in front of the door about to step in when dread washes over you. “shit! Almost forgot to video.” you chuckle to yourself, fishing out your phone and still blissfully unaware of your company practically breathing down your neck.</p><p>You fumble with the torch as you unlock your phone. You can barely see anything through the camera which slightly annoyed you. Not to mention that the screen itself was glitching. You grumbled under your breath cursing at the device in you hands and took a step back. </p><p>And that’s when you heard it.</p><p>Jolting upright your head collided with the underside of the dashboard, a loud crunch sounded from your back at the sudden movement. Confusion swam through your mind because you could have sworn you were at the shack-</p><p>Oh.</p><p>You weren’t at the shack, you were in hell. Hell being crushed into a tight ball hiding for your life from a bunch of deranged killers. Shit! Were you sleeping? Dreaming of the day that started this bullshit?</p><p>Rage boiled in your blood as you remembered backing away from the door and then Jeff’s maniacal Laughter sounding right next to your ear. You remember slamming into the door in an attempt to get away but running straight into Toby’s chest instead. Oh god the screaming, there was someone else in there with them.</p><p>Oh god, you were going to be sick just thinking about it. That poor poor, girl her face split in two and the hatchet still lodged in her head. And, fuck the blood. There was so much blood. Too much blood. And then you were screaming. Then IT showed up, the faceless man. </p><p>Wait, hold on a hot minute. Why hadn’t you been found yet? How long had you been sleeping for? Why on earth weren’t you dead? </p><p>You craned your neck to the side and tried to look up out of the smashed car-door window. It was light out. Midday perhaps. You must have been out for at least 5 hours maybe even a full day. You had no way of knowing. Heck, you didn’t know anything about the situation you were in. You didn’t know how badly damaged you were, didn’t know how much time had passed and more importantly didn’t know where they were. </p><p>That scared you the most. You had no way of telling whereabouts they were. Knowing your luck they were playing with you; waiting for you to come crawling out of your hiding spot so they can strike. Give you a small portion of false hope to only watch it crumble as they kick the shit out of you.</p><p>Life was cruel but these people were crueller. Pure scum of the earth. Vermin.</p><p>You shifted under the dashboard, uncomfortable and aching. If you got out of here alive the first thing you were going to do was find a hospital and then possibly go lock yourself in a psych ward. Those fuckers had traumatic scarred you to hell and back and a small voice in the back of your head was telling you that it was only the beginning. </p><p>You moved your legs to the side and used the driver’s seat to push yourself, carefully avoiding the corpse in the process. You glanced out of the gaping hole where the windscreen should be and saw nothing. No sign of the psychos anywhere. You looked in all directions, there was no one around. </p><p>You must have sat there for a good hour and a half just listening. Listening out for anything that would indicate the whereabouts of them. It was a lot harder than it sounds because there was a piercing screech constantly droning in the back of your head. They must have kicked you too hard. Yet, overall the annoying white noise, you heard nothing but the slight rustle of leaves and the odd bird.</p><p>You decided there was no point in sitting around. I mean they could come back and who knows what they’d do when they- if they caught you this time. You couldn't afford to just sit around anymore. After all, you could do nothing but run. </p><p>Sliding back under the dashboard and out of the hole you originally crawled up, you were careful to make as little noise as possible when you lowered yourself on the gravel smothered ground. You would have thought it would be easier to muffle the noise but of course, the movies lied and you were now stuck cringing at every movement you made. The harsh crunch under your knees was deafening, so god damned loud that you practically leapt onto a nearby patch of overgrown weeds.</p><p>Luckily enough the pickup truck was parked in front of the old warehouse and all you had to do to get out of the open was squeeze under the shutter. Simple enough… if you were three inches flat. And there was no way in hell you were about to lift it. Too much noise.</p><p>Plan B it is then. Did you even have a plan B? Nope. god, you hadn’t had a plan B since this all started. What, two maybe three months ago? Shit, you had lost that much time? Anger flashed red in your eyes as you struggled to think of a way out. Firstly you had to find a source of water and possibly food and judging by the sheer amount of scrap metal outside of the warehouse, whatever was inside most likely wouldn’t be consumable.</p><p>An office might have water in it? Like one of those big water tanks, the ones they’d put inside coffee machines. But where would the office be located? Think (Y/n), think, you stupid bitch. Ah, bingo!</p><p>The window. When you walked around the whare house you had noticed an open window with your typical ‘office’ blinds half torn and hanging out. That had to be some kind of office or communal space. One slight problem… if only the window its self was at least eight foot off the ground. Life was never that simple. </p><p>You edged along to the side of the warehouse that housed the window and started looking for something that would give you an extra boost of hight. Maybe an old ladder or a car door, light enough to carry but tall enough so that it enabled you to reach the ledge. Nothing sofar looked tall enough and as you edged round the corner hopes of actually getting up there were looking slim.</p><p>You approached under the window with the utmost care to be as quiet as humanly possible. There was grass to walk on but the grass was either dead or too long to walk through so utter silence was out of the question. Under the window was a few old school industrial oil drum; the ones that people would light bonfires in. there was three in total and if you managed to stack two on top of each other and then climb up, you could probably reach the window. Yet, there was another issue, well two. One that would cause a shit tone of noise and two, you didn’t even know if you could lift them. What other choice did you have? It wasn’t like you could just holler and politely ask one of the psychos to help you. Sure, they’d be able to lift them, heck Masky could probably lift all three. Chuckling n to yourself you imagined trying to ask the killers to help you escape them, the shock on their faces would be priceless. </p><p>Gripping the side of the drum, you were pleasantly shocked to find that it was rather light the second one was ten times as heavy. One wasn’t enough to get you to the window. You glanced towards the third one. The third one was upright and about two meters to the left under the window. It was also unmovable. You supposed you could place the light on top of it and jump to the window. You prayed your upper body strength was still semi-functional. It would make a lot of noise though.</p><p>Lifting the drum and placing it on top of the other one, you cringed. Mainly out of pain but there was a rather loud bang as the rims clicked into place. Good to know your ribs were still fucked. Curse that orange goggled, hatchet-wielding, twitchy bastard. </p><p>Now, time to test it. You hauled yourself up on top of the first one, careful not to topple the top one over and slowly stood on the second one. You felt that if you were so much as ten pounds heavier the drum would cave in. The window was just about in line with your shoulders and just in reach. Yeah, you could make it. Griping the ledge as far in as you could reach, you jumped. Swinging your spare hand up and into the window so your shoulders were resting on the ledge. Holy fuck your ribs ached and now that goddamned headache was back with vengeance.</p><p>You pushed yourself in and fell face-first onto a table, knocking off its contents and making your nose bleed in the process. Then the table broke. So much for being quite. You rolled down the now slanted table into a heap of dusty paper. The room was so freaking dusty that you almost forgot to breathe. Shit, somebody go get a hazmat suit!</p><p>You surveyed the room and all of its contents. It seemed office-y enough. Very bland very boring. Nothing of any use unless you wanted to kill those fuckers with paper cuts and go on a paper only diet. There were two doors though, one labelled in big black letters 'BOSS’ and the other labelled ‘warehouse’ and ‘fire exit’.</p><p>You headed to the ‘BOSS’ door first. Opening it, you sniggered at the little sign on the front, damn this guy must have one hell of a god complex. The door opened into another office this one was furnished much more exquisitely and thank the heavens a water dispenser; with a spare, unopened water tank. To say you shed a tear of happiness would be an understatement. You rushed over to it and grabbed the nearest, fillable object, which happened to be a vase and drank to your heart's content. </p><p>After about ten minutes of just downing water, you finally decided to go raid the guy’s desk. You didn’t find much food, sadly. You found about three slightly stale granola bars and a tin of baked beans. However, you did find some useful gear, a rucksack with a flask in it, a map of the area, a lighter, a multitool knife and a handgun; plus a full clip in one of the draws and a pack of cigarettes. Wow, finally some fucking luck.</p><p>You counted out the bullets and a few extra you found and had fourteen in total. Perfect that means three each with an extra two for Jeff and Toby’s blocks. You stashed the gun in the seam of your jeans, making sure safety was on so you wouldn’t blow a hole in your own leg and went to fill up the flask. </p><p>Once you had packed the rucksack you spread the map out on the desk. It was a map of the surrounding area with one of those fancy compass drawings in the corner. “So if the front of the warehouse is facing north, I can trackback around the front and keep going then ill eventually find a road…” murmuring to your self as you studied the map you failed to hear the shutters around the front to of the building being forced open.</p><p>You folded the map back up, eager to get the hell out of here. Back through the window was a no go. Your ankle was fucked up enough and you could risk breaking it. You could probably raise the shutters if you from the inside. You might even find a vehicle of some sort in the warehouse, doubtful but still a possibility. </p><p>Retrieving one of the granola bars, you snacked on it as you left the office and headed to the other door. The door before you was one of those annoying two-way doors that always like to swing shut in your face. Beyond the door was a small metal staircase leading into the main body of the warehouse. The main hall of the warehouse was full of aisles of industrial shelving, occasionally staked with old boxes or scraps of metal.</p><p>Deja vu swept through your mind as. Your feet touch the cement at the bottom of the stairs. You should get out of here as quickly as possible. Something doesn’t feel right…</p><p>Knowing your luck those creeps were nearby. All hell was about to break loose. Pulling the gun out of your jeans you cocked it and took the safety off. If you saw one of those fuckers there was no hesitating. Carefully manoeuvring down the isles, careful not to trip over the loose piles of rubble, you slowly made your way towards the shutters. You felt like you were in some kind of action horror movie. If that was the case when you round the corner that faces the shutters backup should be there and then you could kill those fuckers, scream style. In reality, when you rounded the corner you had a mini heart attack,</p><p>The shutter was wide open. How on fucking earth did you not hear that? Swerving back around the corner you poked your head out and surveyed the door. There was no one there. You could make a run for it. No, its probably a trap. One of them is probably waiting behind the pickup truck ready to strike. Should have tried your luck with the window.</p><p>Bolting back down the aisle you came down you almost ran straight into Jeff’s back. To say you almost shit your self was an understatement. You quickly pounced back into the shadows as he turned in your direction, there was no way in hell he didn’t hear that. Yet, he chose to walk away from you. Baffled you stepped back further into the shadows trying to steady your now racing heartbeat.</p><p>“Just a little further p-princess~” Oh no, fuck that. You spun around aimed and fired. Then fled. How the hell did he end up behind you? Did you kill him? How the hell did they get into the warehouse? Did you kill him? Oh, god where were the others? DID YOU FUCKING KILL HIM? Questions screamed in your mind making it hard to keep track of with way you were going.</p><p>Yet, you pushed on rounding another corner, slightly skidding on the loose rubble that littered your path. Regaining your balance, your eyes frantically widen as fear drowns you. You royally fucked up. Before you, was a brick wall, nothing more nothing less. A plain brick wall suffocated in mold. Pivoting on your heel, you go to retrace your steps but freeze when a mass of orange flies past your face. A low 'thwak' resonates off the wall behind you as his hatchet embeds itself in the brittle brick. Was he trying to fucking kill you?! They needed you alive, right? You glance up, cocking and raising the gun. He chuckles, amused at your courage and unfazed by the bullet wound bleeding red into his clothes. </p><p>This guy wasn’t fucking human. Backing up you yelp as the handle of his hatchet digs into your shoulder blade and whimper again as Jeff rounds the corner. You aim and fire, this time at Jeff. He dodges, you fire again and miss. Toby giggles as Jeff chuckles. You are so fucked.</p><p>The two stop about ten feet away from you, eager for your reaction. Curious about what you’ll do next. Afterall they never expected you to put up this much of a fight. It was refreshing. The killers hadn’t had prey bite back in a long time it was just annoying they couldn't turn you into a plaything.</p><p>You cocked the gun again but lowered it as soon as you saw Jeff slip his left foot back. Bad idea... you though to yourself, didn’t want to piss these fuckers off even more.too little too late you supposed but still, putting a bullet in Toby isn’t going to do shit and shooting Jeff will only make it worse for you.</p><p>“Ah, smart move kitten.” You lean back at the nickname and visibly cringe. “Now drop the gun and we can go about business.” Jeff seethed taking another step towards you. Retreating further, finding comfort in the distance, your free hand lifted up to grip at the hatchet next to you. Not to pull it free but to ground yourself as you worked through all possible outcomes. All but one worked in his favour, your only way out would be to kill yourself. Even killing yourself was a shit outcome. They had the upper hand, had you at checkmate.  </p><p> </p><p>You glanced over to Toby, he was about to strike. Raising his hatchet, he pounced, forgetting one little detail. You still had the gun. You gripped the gun placed it bellow your chin and fired. There was a deafening bang and then Toby staggered backwards, falling backwards as you crashed into him. </p><p>Wait, hold on ... Why weren't you dead?</p><p> </p><p>‘Thump’</p><p> </p><p>Toby reacted faster than you could prosses, flipping you on your back, pinning you and ripping the gun free from your grasp. Drops of blood seeped through his mouthguard, painting your face. He held both wrists in one hand, a loud crack was heard when he tightened his grip. You screeched in pain and fear as he lifted a hatched to your throat. Of course, you couldn't die. Of course, it had to be a blank.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, Now Princes. Be go-od for me and DON’T EVER PULL THAT SHIT AGAIN?” He lifts the blade from your throat, catching stray tears that roll down your face. “Now hold sti-still, wouldn't want to cut u-up your p-pretty lit-little face.” Toby lifted the hatchet, fliped the blade and struck you with the blunt edge across the face. You whimpered feeling the force of the blow leaves a throbbing welt. You head lolls to the side and you catch a glimpse of Jeff pulling his leg back before slamming it into the side of your head, claiming your consciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, I'm sorry if I keep ending chapters in unconsciousness... It just kinda happens.</p><p>This chapter was to help lift any confusion the first few chapters may have caused and I'm sorry it didn't include you, favourite killers,  much. I promise the next chapter will have plenty of Jeff and Toby content. </p><p>Anyway thank you for reading and like always I'd really appreciate it if you'd give it a heart and comment.</p><p> </p><p>Till next time- Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Black Honey   0:9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!!!!</p><p>So please read with caution. </p><p>This chapter contains violence, minor gore and explicit language.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jeff stared down at your unconscious body and felt a wave of relief wash over him. He couldn't explain why he felt so drawn to you, couldn't explain the anger that rushed through him when one of the proxies would so much as look at you but you were here now and he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers. There was still a slight problem though…. Toby. Jeff had noticed the proxy’s growing obsession with you and did not like it one bit. Jeff personally knew he was the type to fixate on certain ‘things’ that caught his attention but Toby, Toby never became infatuated with anything. The longest he kept a plaything for was five days and that was only because he liked the smell of her hair. Anyway, Toby never got ‘hooked’ on a target. Jeff, however, liked to savour each and every scream, sigh, and whimper his victims made. He’d keep them alive for months, using them up till their mind was a mess and their body was deemed useless. Don’t get him wrong, Jeff loved the kill; would sell his soul to be able to watch the life of each and every human fade away into nothing. But Jeff would occasionally find someone and oh god, he’d fucking consume them. </p><p>His last plaything had died prematurely, she had gotten too close to a dangerous patch of sensitive information and so the Proxies had to swoop in and save the day. Somehow, the bitch had gained access to the outside and was communicating with someone, sharing information. That ‘someone’ was believed to be Leah and the information was the recent surge in proxy deaths.</p><p>Jeff was forced to work this case with the proxies as a way of punishment and so when you came stumbling into the forest, Jeff was beyond delighted to have something to fuck around with. He had gone without directly killing two weeks now and was getting restless. Sure the proxies had dragged him around to kills but he had to just sit there and watch. The moment he laid eyes on you, he wanted to hear you scream. He and the proxies underestimated your will to live though, highly underestimated it…</p><p>At this point in time, you were just another victim and no one had connected you to Leah. Your father wasn’t even formulated as part of the equation yet. You were just another loose end that needed to be cut off. </p><p>The proxies had been monitoring Leah for two weeks before your encounter with Jeff and Toby in the woods and then proceeded to watch her during your time in the hospital. They were tasked with digging up information on you as well. They would have caught you that night if it wasn’t for your peculiar status.</p><p>Jeff had noticed there was something off about you from the beginning. You were far too durable to be just another ‘human’. He was later informed by the proxies, that you were a Berserker but sleeping. That meant you were either going to become an asset to Slenderman, or you were to be killed off. Jeff wouldn't have let them kill you, no he would snatch you up and keep you for himself; Lock you away in one of his little hideouts.</p><p>So, when the proxies made the connection between you and your father, Jeff was livid. Now he couldn't have you, couldn't play with you, couldn't break you. On top of that Toby came into the picture.  Now it wasn’t like Jeff could just gut Toby and then whisk you away. Toby was far too strong. So Jeff just had to wait until the proxies deemed you useless and then hope that Toby loses interest. Jeff HAD to have you to himself.</p><p>Toby, on the other hand, couldn't pin down why he favoured you, or even if he favoured you. He just knew that when one of the others would so much as lay a hand on you, thick red rage would rush through him. You were his to hurt. His to torment. When you would run away he would freak and become tense and irritable, even took out his anger on Jeff. He had noticed Jeff’s change in nature towards you the second time you slipped from his grasp, it pissed Toby off. Royally pissed him off. But the moment you were back in his grasp a calm washed over him. He was able to think again. Think about how he would do anything to avoid you falling into Jeff’s grasp.</p><p>However, now he and Jeff had to focus on the mission. Carrying your unconscious body out of the warehouse, Toby declared that the group wouldn’t go back to Homebase and instead would camp out at one of the many outposts dotted throughout Trackway. They all agreed, not that they had any choice in the matter and Toby put your body in the back of the pickup truck; making sure there was no way in hell you could escape this time. There would be no room for mistakes. Toby would own you no matter who or what got in the way. </p><p>On the way to the outpost, they would stop every 45 minutes to an hour to check on your condition and to see whether you’ve done a runner or not. It was a four-hour journey by car to get to the outpost and the outpost itself was at least 35 miles, in every direction, cut off from any form of civilisation. Quite, perfectly, remote. After all, that last disappearing act called for discipline. That last thing anyone needed at this point in time was a bunch of nosy pigs demanding to know what all the screaming is about. </p><p>The journey was a tense one, to say the least. Masky was driving while Jeff road shotgun and Toby and Hoodie were sitting in the back. No one dared talk. They only exchanged glances when the truck would periodically stop. </p><p>The outpost Toby had chosen was an old funeral home, left abandoned in the early 2000s. It was one of those buildings with a built-in morgue down in the basement. Eyeless Jack would occasionally use it for ‘medical’ research. It had plenty of rooms and all of the doors leading to the outside world were heavy bolted. Perfect for keeping unwanted guests out and beyond perfect for keeping what must stay under lock and key, under lock and key. Basically, you’d have to be friggin Hoodini if you wanted out.</p><p>When the Proxies arrived at the house Jeff was quick to leave the truck and circle around to where you were. He lifted the tarpaulin covering you and half expected you to have disappeared. Much to his relief, you were there. Dishevelled, bloody and beaten but you were still there. Still out cold. He hoisted you effortlessly over his shoulder and marched into the house behind Masky. </p><p>The house itself was sparingly furnished. The walls were bare wooden planks and the floor stone tiles. Cold, it was always so cold and with no central heating, the group would have to rely on the fireplaces. There were five in total, one in each of the bedrooms and then one in the kitchen area and one in the living room. The morgue underneath was left to freeze. Naturally a great place for storing bodies. Perfect for storing misbehaving hostages.</p><p>The morgue was a long puzzle of corridors with two studies(one converted into a spare room), a surgical autopsy room, a furnace and boiler room, a mortuary and few storage rooms. Two of the storage rooms had been converted into what most would call prison cells while the other two kept their original purpose. Jeff had used this building before and knew exactly with ‘cell’ he was dragging you too. The cold, dank, darkest part of the building would be your home for the next few weeks.</p><p>You were still unconscious when Jeff locked and bolted the door and still dead to the world when hoodie checked up on you 4 hours later. The group figured that you wouldn’t wake up for at least another 12 hours so they decided to go resource hunting. Masky was left to watch the house and you in it, whilst Jeff and Hoodie would grab groceries and Toby would go pick up your little friend. </p><p>When the proxies had taken you from your apartment block, their next target was Leah but she had already packed her shit and left. Slender had put eyeless Jack on her case and with his superior tracking skills her disappearing act was no match and he had her location pinned in three days and had Leah back at home base in four.  </p><p>EJ had broken Leah within hours and had found out some rather concerning information. Leah had been scouted by an alleged government specialist group. They had blackmailed her, forced her to relay information from ‘someone on the inside’ and told her to keep an eye on you. She said she didn’t know WHO anyone really was but she knew that the people who attacked you in the woods that night were connected. She also knew that the person she was retrieving information from was in grave danger. Basically she bawled her eyes out to EJ begging for mercy because she was, in hindsight just another fucking pawn. The proxies were pissed off, to say the least, now their only lead was you and you were as useless as a book with no pages.</p><p>Unless you were lying. In that case, there was only one way to find out.</p><p>They would start off with scare tactics and verbal threats. If that didn’t work the threats would no longer be verbal and if THAT didn’t work then they would introduce Leah and start taking her apart in front of you. For now, you‘re safely nocked-the-fuck-out.</p><p>Masky was on his third cup of coffee when he saw it. An urgent news bulletin, highlighting your disappearance, flashed across the tv screen. Their, in colour, was your sickeningly sweet smile with the caption ‘MISSING. Last seen September the 14th, now missing three weeks. Please call this number- ********** if you have any information.’ The newsman then went on to cover the detail of your disappearance and how they suspected you were a victim of foul play. </p><p>Masky scoffed, mildly amused by their poor wording choices. “Foul play, how fucking pathetic.” Masky hated how much the news outlets would beat around the bush but it did come in handy when they got the information wrong on murders and crimes Proxies commit. For example about a year ago dear old crazy fucking Jeff went on a statewide killing binge, taking out at least 150 innocent lives. The news fucked everything up on that one and so the coppers started arresting the wrong people. Masky would have liked to see Jeff behind bars, even though he wouldn't stay there for long, a few months of peace and quiet would be nice. Picking up after that twat wasn't very fun.</p><p>Alas, Masky never got his way and so when he heard your muffled screams, six hours ahead of schedule, he decided to go make himself a fourth cup of coffee. Sure he'd love to tear into you, scream you hoarse. Would KILL to give you what you deserve, especially after you ripped a chunk out of his thigh with that ‘Ticking’ bastards damn hatchet. But, the consequences wouldn’t be pleasant. Sure he hated Jeff and Toby but he was no match for them. Maybe if hoodie helped him he could take one of them on but one v one, there was no way in hell he would come out in one piece. He was surprised you had survived this long. For your sake, you should have died that night in the forest.</p><p>You woke up cold, so very fucking cold. The air was tight, struggling to get into your lungs and you coughed up god knows what. It was so damned dark that you couldn't even see your hand before your face but the tart smell of blood confirmed that your insides probably weren't very intact. You're probably going to die in here the fleeting thought knocked what air was left in your lungs out in another harsh coughing fit. It ended with you vomiting up acid and blood. </p><p>God, you felt like shit and most likely looked worse. Your head was banging, body was aching and on top of that, you had no clue what, where, when and why. You were beyond confused and let's face it Toby probably killed you for shooting him and you were now in ‘actual hell’. You know the real one with the red man who had horns poking out of his head, not the one the Proxies had fabricated just to ruin your life. Or maybe you were still alive (somehow) and you were back in the freakshow of a house and Jeff, or Toby, or whoever-the-fuck-else was about to beat the living crap out of you for legging it… again. Damn, they really need to learn to lock their front door.</p><p>Shit, where really were you?  Wait, your hands weren't tied… nor were your feet. Wow, that's surprising. You shift your weight so you’re on your hands and knees and accidentally put your left hand in your stomach acid and blood puke. You reeled backwards sitting on your knees and started to feel around. Sure everything hurt like hell but somehow you could still move. </p><p>The room was quite big, unfurnished and bare apart from a metal bucket. How generous of your hoste. The floor and walls were covered in what felt like porcelain tiles, fancy. The door was locked and no matter how many times you tried to kick, punch and claw at the damned thing it wouldn't budge. You even tried screaming at it, commanding the stubborn thing to open with ‘Open-fucking-sesemy bitch’. But as expected nothing happened, no one even came to tell you to shut the fuck up.</p><p>You must have sat there for hours, screaming on and off, before you heard something. It was subtle, barely audible but you heard it. I was a door violently slamming. You placed your bets on either Jeff or masky. Then you heard it again, this time closer. Someone was coming. You scramble backwards, crushing your back into the corner of the room, quickly grabbing the bucket. Loud, booming footsteps approached, doing absolutely nothing to help kill the headache still rolling around your skull. The pair turned into two pairs then four. A door opened and a loud thud followed. Then the door slammed and the footfalls started in your direction, this time there were only three pairs. </p><p>You gripped the bucket harder when you heard the sliding of a bolt on the door. Pulled it up to cover your face when light began to flood the room. Only one of the three approached you. You figured it was either Jeff or Toby, they liked to torment you the most; heck could even be that blue masked-creature-guy, coming to tell you to be careful not to rip your internal stitching again. You kinda wished it was that guy, sure he had humiliated you, intimidated you and probably stole a couple of organs but you hadn’t pissed him off. Hadn’t slammed a hatchet into his thigh, kicked him in the face and ran away from him. Oh god, Toby and his little gang were gonna chew you up.</p><p>You had been too paranoid about how badly you had pissed the group off that you didn’t know that your company had stopped and was now crouched before you. You only snapped back to life when the bucket was harshly ripped from your hold and thrown across the room. You came face to face with Toby. You didn't realise it was him at first. Without his goggles and grinding mouth guard, the thought had never crossed your mind that there was a human under there. </p><p>Yet here he was. You studied his face only for a heartbeat but it was already engraved into your mind. His golden-brown eyes, dead and emotionless. The slight curve of his nose that he had most likely broken. And that horrible scar tainting his left cheek, the skin was so jagged and ripped that you could just about see his molars. His chestnut hair slid over his eyes as he tilted his head, now studying you. </p><p>You violently flinched when he brought his hand up to caress your cheek, flashes of him half kicking you to death in the forest, caused you to jerk your head back; slightly splitting your scalp on the wall. He chuckled at this but didn't move away, only continued to stare. The anxiety in your chest was choking you, begging you to do something about how uncomfortably close he was. </p><p>You glanced past him and saw Masky and Jeff in the doorway. There was an indecipherable expression on Jeff's face. It was comforting in the most unsettling way. He would protect you from Toby, but Toby would protect you from him...His aura unnerved you to the point where you slid behind Toby, not wanting to feel him pick you apart. Toby chuckled at this with a low grumble in his chest. It didn't take long till Jeff was approaching you. Like a trance was lifted, the Jeff you knew was back and now only feet away.</p><p>That annoying smirk was etched onto his face, splitting the corners of his joker smile, spilling blood. He didn't come as close as Toby, almost ‘respecting’ your personal space bubble. Still, being in the same room with him was still sending you spiralling in dizzying fear. Toby wasn't helping. He just crouched there, arms now folded and face set solid just studying you. Igniting a frenzy of questions in your mind. You must have sat there, cowering like a deer in the headlights for what felt like a century.</p><p>“Just don’t kill her, Boss said we still need her.” Masky’s words barely reached your ears before the door slammed shut behind him. The situation at hand didn’t dawn on you until Toby was stood upright and Jeff had backed off towards the door. You were still lost in your jumbled thoughts when Jeff pulled out a set of keys and only snapped back when you heard the lock mechanism of the door, sliding home. </p><p>To say you jumped was an understatement. You practically flew to the other side of the roo when Toby so much as flexed his wrist. It was Jeff’s turn to laugh. You were locked in a cell-like room with two very unpredictable serial killers and you were beginning to feel very claustrophobic. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Fighting was out of the question. You were completely at their mercy and completely fucked.</p><p>“Now Princes, be a good girl and we won’t have to hurt you… too much.” You feel the sneer of Toby’s tone slapped you across the face as you made the terrifying realisation that the fun and games were over, you had lost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hopped this cleared up and confusion anywhere.</p><p>And again I'm sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes.</p><p> </p><p>A Little Disclaimer- The chapters from this point on are going to get quite a bit darker. The chapters before this point were my warm-up chapters. there will be very unsettling scenes and like I said I will post two versions of the really fucked up chapters. I have decided there will be dubious consent and explicit descriptions of gore, like really explicit. The next chapter won't be heavy, heavy but the gore will be there. Basically I'd put a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag if I could. I'm just putting this out there. This is experimental writing for me so please don't come for me with pitchforks if I get stuff wrong and remember this is fiction and FICTION ONLY.</p><p>Anyway, I hope you all stay safe during this pandemic.</p><p> </p><p>Till Next Time- Loner :) </p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Mutilation Is The Most Sincere Form Of Flattery   1:1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Like I said in the previous chapter, the content from here on out will be quite a bit darker. With references to necrophilia, rape, self-mutilation, suicide and explicit description of gore, the themes may be very triggering for some. I will ALWAYS put trigger warnings and with the heavy chapters, I will have a 'clean' version. I am including these scenes because it brings depth to the way the characters interact with each other. After all, this is a 'Yandere' story and that in its self isn't exactly family-friendly. so without further adieu enjoy the chapter!!!</p><p>THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!!!!</p><p>So please read with caution. </p><p>This chapter contains light mentions of NECROPHILIA, light mentions of cannibalism, violence, gore and explicit language.</p><p>PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED WITHOUT Checking the warnings!!!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You heard it before you saw it. The sound of Jeff pushing himself off of the solid wood door boomed down your ears before a blur of movement rushed towards you. You had little to no time at all to react, and so when Jeff pounced on you, your head once again collided with the wall. The wave of lightheadedness and blood slowly seeping out of the small gash was the least of your concerns presently, because Jeff, The fucking Killer, had you pinned and suspended by your throat. Your limbs thrashed but he was quick to snatch up both of your wrists in his hand and push his body weight into you, rendering you immobile. His thighs crush your legs, while he increases the pressure on your throat, stealing away your oxygen; forcing you to submit. </p><p>You screw your eyes shut, unaware of Toby slowly closing in. They were going to fuck you up. Fuck you up real bad, Jeffs flexing fingers were a dead give away. He was probably fighting the urge to slam your head over and over into the wall behind you. Smash up your cranium until the only way to recognise you would be dental records. Perhaps they would remove your teeth before they stashed away your corpse. Heck, Jeff seemed like the type of person to pull a Ted Bundy whilst Toby seemed like more of a Jeffery Dahmer… Either way, you knew they wouldn’t stop until they grew bored. A small voice in the back of your mind told you that they probably wouldn’t stop till you were dead or worse, a pile of used, abused human mush.  </p><p>Speaking of abuse, Toby now came into the picture. Because Jeff was busy, crushing your windpipe, Toby figured it would be the best time to start off the verbal interrogation. “Now Princess, y-your going to tell me everything you know about L-Leah.” Toby didn’t miss the flash of confusion that danced in your eyes before Jeff dug his nails into your neck now restricting the blood flow. You could feel your face turning purple as you struggled to process what Toby had asked you. What the fuck did the ticking bastard want to know about Leah? </p><p>“He’s waiting,  sweetcheeks, don’t make me force you to talk.” Jeff sneered as the pressure was lifted from your throat, Jeff stepped back and you collapsed, violently wheezing for air. “I’d seriously advise you to answer him, whore.” God you fucking hated Jeff. Hated him, even more, when he landed a swift kick to your stomach and successfully tore away your ability to breath again. </p><p>“I don’t... know what you’re- going on about?” You pathetically coughed out. Clutching your throat, you could feel the rising welts from Jeff's fingernails. You raised your head and faced towards the two psychos, finding it hard to choke down tears and hide your terror. Toby wasn’t looking at you and instead chose to glare holes through the door, twitching every now and then. Jeff didn’t like your answer. It was damned obvious because this time when he raised his leg again to kick you, and it was aiming straight for your face. You managed to dodge it but fell forwards at Toby’s feet and thus earning a swift kick to the jaw from him instead. </p><p>Your hands flew to your face as blood pooled in your mouth and you screamed a harsh shrill when Toby pulled you up to face him by your hair. Turmoil bubbled in your gut when Jeff vanished off somewhere behind you. However, Toby forced you to focus on him by using his other hand to roughly grip your face.</p><p>“Now, now princess, eyes on me. Now we could d-do this the quick and easy way or you could b-be a little b-brat and force us to make a mess of your pret-tty porcelain skin~” The threat sat heavily upon his tongue as his whiskey drenched breath fanned your nose and you couldn’t help the shiver that wracked your bones. “All you need t-to do is tell us e-everything you know about your little friend and I won’t b-break your legs for running away from m-me.” He accentuated the treat by pulling harder on your poor hair and pressing purple bruises into your cheekbones.</p><p>You tried to shake your head, tried to get a little distance between you but as you stepped back, you felt a warm puff of breath turn the back of your neck to gooseflesh. Jeff was directly behind you “What’s it gonna be sweetcheeks? Are you gonna be a good little bitch? Or are we going to have to be more forceful with you.” Jeff growled in your ear, he was so damned close that you could feel the moisture from his breath fog up the shell of your ear. You couldn't move, could barely breathe between the two. You were close enough to practically kiss Toby… or bite his lips off. </p><p>“Why do you want to know... about Leah?” You whisper out because of your too damn afraid that even breathing too loudly would cause one of them to snap. Too fucking scared that Jeff’s going to force your spinal cord to befriend his knife or that Toby’s going marry one of his hatchets to your rib cage. A moment of silence passes through the room before you’re little confrontation is interrupted with a slightly muffled but spine chilling scream. The sound made you jump back slightly, making Jeff grip your underarms in response. The scream sounded familiar to you and the cries that followed ran your blood ice cold. </p><p>You froze, didn’t even acknowledge that Jeff had let go and stalked back over towards the doors. Didn’t hear the lock turn and didn’t notice him leaving the room. You were just standing there, frozen. Barely flinched when Toby released your face and launched you across the room in a fit of rage, tearing out chunks of your hair and cracking a rib or two against the bucket. You were temporarily numb to all pain, deaf to toby slamming the door shut behind him. The only thing that you could focus on was the screaming. The long tortured cries bouncing off of the walls and drilling deep into your skull.</p><p>You knew that scream, knew whose mouth it leaked out of. Knew it too fucking well. </p><p>When the door flew open again and Toby and co marched in, you went feral. Ambushed him and damned near clawed his eyes out. If he wasn’t holding a rather heavy wooden chair he would have restrained you himself but instead, Hoodie had to intervene. You highly underestimated the strength and speed of this man because as soon as you swung for Toby, he had you pinned face down and screaming for him to release you. The force he was using to restrain your arms was mind-numbing. You were shocked that he hadn’t pushed your arms out of place.  </p><p>“Easey, Bitch… I wouldn’t do that if I were you” You didn’t know what to expect when you heard his voice. It was so very fucking smooth. Not gruff and splintered like Toby’s or Masky’s and not gravely like Jeff’s. It was calming? No, calm to the point where it stopped you in your tracks. Damn this guy’s voice could hypnotise a nation. And so when he released your arms you stayed as still as possible. Bellie flat against the cold tile and arms limp at your side, you laid there. Just laid there, not daring to move and even forcing yourself to breathe silently. Hoodie meant business and the way Toby had suddenly switched his whole fucking demeanour scared the crap out of you. No need to prolong and intensify the beating that was due.</p><p>Your time on the floor and out of pain was not very long, because as soon as Toby had set down the chair, he was dragging you to your feet to buy the back of your hoodie; tearing the fabric in the process. One you were on your feet Toby spun you around. You got a fleeting glance at the scowl on his face before you were shoved into the chair and Hoodie half-near snapped your neck yanking a sack over your head. Duct Tape was wrapped around the seam of the sack and your neck, creating an uncomfortable little cage around your head. The fabric was rough and harsh against your skin but as you reached up to try and tear yourself free, Toby was quick to grip your wrists. He roughly pinned them to the splintered wooden arms whilst hoodie secured them with what once again felt like duct tape. They repeated the process on your legs.</p><p>Scared, confused and trapped, you were now completely at their mercy. Well, mercy wasn’t quite the right word. “Now sweetcheeks,” It was Jeff. you didn't even realise he had entered the room and the sack over your head made it near impossible to figure out how close he was. “We’re going to try this again. Tell us about Leah Janet Fern.” How the fuck did he know her full name and when did he get so god-damned close. You’d bet fifty quid that if this sack wasn’t over your head, you’d be able to smell the blood and bottle of whisky, he most likely downed, lingering on his breath. You cringed at the thought, skin raising to goose flesh at the thought of him being so close.</p><p>Jeff being all up in your personal space was shoved to the back of your mind as the weight of his words dawned on you, yet confused the hell out of you all at the same time. That was Leah in the other room and- oh god. You felt you were going to vomit. Leah was in the other room. Leah was in the other fucking room. Oh god, what had they done to her? Had they hurt her? How badly? The screams didn’t sound quite right. Maybe they had fucked her up to the point where she couldn't function properly. She might be dying…</p><p>Good.</p><p>An onslaught of selfish thoughts bombarded you in the form of a violent panic attack. SHE got you tangled up in this mess. SHE kept secrets. SHE was acting suspiciously; weeks- heck even months before your accident in the woods. Why didn’t you see it then? Phone calls and shady text messages. And her new job where she couldn't tell you anything about it except ‘don’t worry about it’ or ‘It’s none of your business’. It pissed you off then and made your blood boil in wrath now. Who cares if she’s dying. Who fucking cares-</p><p>A sharp splitting pain tore up your arm as you snapped back to reality. “Fucking hell bitch, n-no need t-to go exorcists on us.” A dark chuckle sounded directly in front of your face. Toby was back and from the way your hand throbbed and burned from pain, he was the one who had ripped you from your vengeful trance. “I had to remove you cut-te l-little pinky finger t-to get your attention. Stupid little princes~” He removed your finger. Cut off your fucking finger. They weren't lying when they said they would remove your legs if you kept running.</p><p>You tried to move your hand. Tried to lift it and form a fist. It didn’t feel like you were missing a finger. And if your hand wasn’t sticky with blood you would have thought he’d just broken it. Of course, you couldn't see so, in theory, he could be lying. But when a muffled thud shook the chair, you knew he wasn’t lying. This time you screamed. An intense train of pins and needles ripped up your arm as Toby, once again brought the blade of his hatchet down on your hand. </p><p>“Kitten, we could do this all day. Removing fingers is no hassle for us and oh god the way you scream… Ughhh gets me all riled up.” Jeff growled in your ear, massaging your shoulders in mock comfort. A chill snakes down your spine at his next words. “So, all you have to do to stay in one, heh well one-ish piece. Is to use your FUCKING ears and Listen.” A hand was on your throat now lightly squeezing it. If the sack wasn’t over your head you’d spit square in his face, bite him maybe, but he probably enjoys that. Or, take it as an invitation to do fat worse than remove fingers.</p><p>You paled at the thought. The thought that they could dish out a great deal more than cheap plastic surgery on your hand. </p><p>“I'm going to ask you one last t-time, tell us about y-your relationship with Leah” And so you did. Reluctant and confused about how and why she was involved, you explained everything you possibly could. You told them about how you met all the way up to your last encounter with her. They were silent throughout it all, giving you no indication on whether you were saying the right shit or not. Jeff had let go of you and Toby hadn’t removed any more fingers when you shakily finished, there was slight ruffing of clothes and a door in the distance opening and closing then nothing. Solid silence for what felt like a good hour. </p><p>You sat there, silently crying, immensely overwhelmed and unable to do anything about your pitiful state. The pain in your hand had dyed down into a dull throb but your killer headache was resurfacing. When was the last time you had eaten, heck, you hadn’t had water in god knows how long? You were sure you had pissed your pants but your ass was so damn numb that if Toby or whoever were to remove your leg, you wouldn’t feel a thing. Basically you were a fucking mess and would kill EVERYONE in the fucking building just for a warm shower. </p><p>You had almost forgotten about your screaming kidnappee friend. You were sure, 95% positive that it was Leah but Why? You didn’t understand how she was connected. And then back at the freak show of a horror house in the woods and your father, confused the shit out of you. You didn’t even know what to think when it came to that. You tried to piece it all together but none of it clicked. Maybe it was a mistake that you were here. No, they’d have killed you off already if you were. You needed answers-</p><p>“Oh my god, what have they done to you.” You almost gave yourself whiplash from how fast your head shot up. So it was Leah. God, hearing her voice was like breathing air after drowning. Fuck, it gave you life. Your euphoria was short-lived when Jeff pipped up.</p><p>“Shut up cunt! I’ll cut your fucking tongue out!” Fuck, he sounded pissed. Best not press his buttons. A harsh slap bounced around the room followed by a gruff “untie her”. Then you felt the bonds on your wrists and ankles loosen. Jeff commanded her to leave the sack over your head; said something about your face annoying him. You couldn't complain though, having your arms and legs free was better than nothing. </p><p>“Now, Kitten” Fuck, he was right at your ear now. You hated how he was able to move about without you noticing. “Get the fuck up!” He harshly yelled before pulling the chair out from underneath you. The ground was painfully hard and damn near excruciating on your injured hand. You were kind of relieved that Jeff demanded you keep the sack on, at least now you wouldn’t have to stare at the stumps you once called fingers. </p><p>Now all you had to do was stand…</p><p>After getting your ass degraded to the high heavens, you had managed to stand (with help) and just about walk. You were so goddamned weak, the fuckers should have fed you properly. You had you injured arm around Leah’s shoulders while Jeff led you down what felt like a really fucking long hallway. At the end, you were hauled over Jeff’s shoulder because battling stairs was near impossible for you. With the sack still taped over your head, you had no clue where or what the fuck you were doing and so when Jeff roughly set you down you walked straight into a wall.</p><p>Leah was quick to steady your balance but your childish embarrassment was quick to turn to ice-cold shame when Jeff once more compared you to a fucking door matt. If he didn’t shut up, you'll rip out his tongue; give him a dose of his own medicine. Fucking asshole. </p><p>You dragged your weight down another corridor before you were hit with the familiar smell of cigarettes. A door was slammed behind you before you were shoved face-first into a leather couch. </p><p>The cushion dipped beside you and your injured hand was violently yanked towards whoever sat down. A sickening crack soon gave away who it was. For fuck’s sake, this guy was basically your shadow at this point. “Ooo princess, I really fucked your hand u-up. Might have t-to chop off the whole thing if it-t getts infected~” Hell no. The prick could go fuck himself. No way was he taking you a whole hand. “Kidding… calm d-d-down I can smell the fear on you”</p><p>“Why has she still got that stupid bag on her head?” Maskey was back if only he could fuck back off. Sure all of your fucking captors pissed you off but Masky just radiated asshole vibes. Like he was the type of person to guilt-trip you into giving him your last cigarette. Not cool. “I can’t explain shit if shes got that fucking thing over her head.” Oh wow, everyone was in a shit mood today. Everyone except for Toby who gleefully hummed to himself as he tore off the tape around your neck. Boy, this was going to be fun. </p><p>It took a while for your eyes to focus even longer for you to pinpoint your target. Leah was propped against the far wall, looking comically dishevelled. If the situation wasn’t so fucked up you’d probably take the piss and ask her if shed just had sex in the fucking forest. However, now was definitely not the time considering you had a ticking time bomb next to you and just breathing funny could send him psycho. </p><p>As if to agree with your thoughts Toby decided to, once again, grip your injured hand forcing you to look at him. You knew the sadistic asshole just wanted to see how fucked up your face was. “H-how pret-ty. I love it when you cry. You see, I don’t want to have to remove your lovely long legs~ but you keep running away from me. I'll crush your ankles.” You nodded in half mock terror. Half because you knew he wouldn’t handicap you but he might remove a few more fingers. </p><p>It was Jeff who would rip off <br/>your legs. Jeff was the whirlwind. Sure Toby was unpredictable and violent but Jeff, Jeff threw all inhibition to the fucking wind. He was brutal, animalistic, untamable. Toby was tied down by something, loyal to that ‘thing’. </p><p>Now wasn't the time to psycho-analyse every little detail about your captors, no, now was the time for answers. It was the least you deserved. You just wanted to know what the fuck was going on and why Leah was involved.</p><p>“Could someone please tell me- me what’s going on..” You could decide if you were missing brain cells or you had somehow grown a pair. But as soon as you opened your mouth all eyes were on you.</p><p>Masky was the first to speak up after a painful few minutes of awkward silence. “Well if you don’t run I’m sure we can clear up a few details.“ You didn’t think you had the energy to run honestly. “And please for the love of God, don’t throw a tantrum.” Throw a tantrum, fucking rich coming from mister negative. “Leah I think you should explain it all, considering you dragged your friend into this mess.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi again, how is everyone? I hope well... </p><p>Any British readers want to smack the prim minister upside the head? I sure do.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, thank you for reading please leave a comment and heart it if you want.</p><p> </p><p>Till next time- Loner</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Falling Away From Me   1.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the song I recommend for this chapter is Falling away from me by korn</p><p> </p><p>I'm going to write a little rant/ explanation as to why I haven't been uploading. skip if you want as what I'm about to say will probably be irrelevant to most readers but it would be nice and mean a fair bit to me if you read it. </p><p> </p><p>firstly- As I said in the previous chapter, shit from now on is gonna be a bit trigger warning happy.  As in please only read if you feel as though this isn't going to mentally affect you. </p><p> </p><p>Secondly- as I wrote in my authors note before this, aspects of the plot are changing and I'm going to highlight them here.</p><p>- One: The MCs dad is gonna become a subplot instead of the main plot as I have decided to MAINLY focus on the relationship between the MC, Jeff and Toby. This won't affect the story much but will ease up the confusion. I have come to the realisation that the original plot I had in mind has many holes and is fragile. So, with the way I was going with the story, it would have been torn to shreds. </p><p>- Two: it made no fucking sense anyway and I'm new to writing full-blown stories so, yeah, sorry about that.</p><p>Thirdly- The way I feel lately has been very up and down with a side of I-can't-be-fucked-to-write. To be honest, I have done fuck all lately.</p><p>Fourthly- I wrote some of this chapter drunk. Apparently I write better half drunk. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This chapter is a real turning point for how explicit I'm about to write. </p><p> </p><p>like seriously READ THE WARNINGS, please.</p><p> </p><p>Blood, explicit gore, implications of wanting to R*pe someone, curse words.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A thick stream of blood poured out of your nose as you rolled across the bare mahogany floor. Notches and splintered wood ripped at your torn and abused clothes as you heard the shouting diminish. Jeff had launched you across the room in a desperate attempt to save Leah. </p><p> </p><p>In your fit of rage, you had managed to break her nose and tear out some hair; a small price to pay for what she ultimately dragged you through. </p><p> </p><p>She had barely finished explaining when you lunged at her, but you had heard enough. The stupid bitch was well in over her head and dragged you out to the depths as collateral damage. It happened to be potluck that your father was involved. </p><p> </p><p>Dark harsh luck tainted your blood as you propped yourself up against the far wall and anticipated your doom. How many times were they going to let your outbursts of emotion slide? How many times could you yell and spit in their mouth until one of them cut your tongue out? How much time do you have left till one of them snaps? </p><p> </p><p>Clearly, you underestimated your captor’s patience because even though you just tried to kill a prized asset to their scheme, you still had your head. Heck, Toby was laughing. He still continued to chuckle as he approached your poor excuse of a flesh prison. </p><p> </p><p>You tried to gain some distance as he crouched before you. His scared up hand wiping the blood from your nose in mock comfort. You cringed as the rough pad of his thumb ran over your cheek and across your lips, collecting a fat drop of red. </p><p> </p><p>His other hand reached up and he drew his mouth guard down, revealing the horrid spider web of scar tissue that disfigured his cheek. Then, much to your alarm, he popped the blood-covered thumb into his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>The red drop despaired past his lips and the look that crossed his face was soul-crushing. It was the look of glee that graces a predator's face when they finally get to taste their prey. The look soon turned euphoric as he moaned around the digit. You felt the flesh on your arms rise up and the hairs stand on end. This man was going to devour you. You were dead sure he would lose all inhibition and drain you of everything there and then.</p><p> </p><p>But no. Your knight in shining armour had to swoop in and save the day. </p><p> </p><p>Jeff had pipped up from the corner of the room, where he was also crouched; inspecting Leah though. “How useful is this one Toby?” Still running on adrenaline and fear you muttered ‘not very’ under your breath in a huff of anger. Toby still heard though and in one swift movement he had you up on both feet, supported by the back of the neck and was forcefully dragging you toward your once dear friend.</p><p> </p><p>You knew what was coming before Jeff even thought to say the words. You knew by the way the fingers twitched and flexed around your nape, the way he hummed happily and cracked his neck, that Toby knew too. Boy, you knew because Jeff had that glint in his eye that you'd bet your mother's life on, that Toby was mirroring. </p><p> </p><p>‘You'd pay for your sins now’ said the devil as Toby kicked your legs out from underneath you. ‘You get what you deserve’ he whispered as Jeff handed you a knife. </p><p>Kneeling before Leah you glanced into her soul, begging her to speak up. Pleading for a miracle that would allow you to forgive her.</p><p> </p><p>In a fleeting moment of moral recognition, suicide crossed your mind. With a slight tilt of your wrist, a burst of muscle movement and about seven pounds of pressure, you could end it all and slit your throat. The trauma from watching you slit your own throat would be punishment enough for Leah and you would have ended the torment. This nightmare in which most would call reality would freeze and you’d cease to exist. Your footprint in life, erased and deemed meaningless. The burden of being in the wrong place at the wrong time would fail to affect anyone else close to you and you’d get out Scott free.</p><p> </p><p>Heaven can suck it. Fuck dying for anyone else. This was your life and if you couldn't dictate who and what fucked with it, God be damned, you’d deal out the punishments. Leah was first and if this was how it was going to go down, then so be it. </p><p> </p><p>So when the jagged ends of Jeff's permanent smile stretched out and the words that fell from his lips, you were ready. “Make her pretty for me, kitten.”</p><p> </p><p>Toby’s hand shifted from your neck to your head as you adjusted the heavy blade in your hand. You could only imagine the amount of pain you were about to inflict. </p><p> </p><p>From the corner of your eye, you caught movement as Masky shifted. This was entertainment. You were a puppet made for the amusement of others. Jeff seemed to highlight this as he chuckled when you inched closer to Leah, hands trembling like winter trees in a storm. </p><p> </p><p>Your eyes caught hers and this time you saw the apology. It gathered in her eyes and leaked out in a hot stream of tears. You saw the regret, the pain and the sorrow trying to force it way out of her in a choked sob. Jeff was quick to shut her up and Toby even quicker to shove you forwards. You felt the earth shudder at what you were about to do and yet you pressed on; the knife now less than a centimetre from her stress bitten lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on pet. Make her feel sorry. M-make. Her. Hurt.” You couldn't, but you had to. It was too late to bite the bullet. So as the glinting edge slipped past her lips, you snapped your wrists right earning a scream from the friend below you. The knife had torn a ravine in her left cheek and exposed her teeth. The off-yellow fat bubbled to the surface then drowned in blood. </p><p> </p><p>You wondered whose blood Toby would like the taste of more. </p><p> </p><p>Leah’s eyes rolled back as you jerked the knife again. This time left. Once more the skin split and peeled backwards, running away from the blade. The blood was pouring out of her mouth now, mixing with her tears and staining the wooden floor beneath you. The way the blade sliced up her cheek reminded you of cutting a joint of pork. The initial incision causes the most resistance and then the rest is as smooth as butter. </p><p> </p><p>Your captors really were holding back.</p><p> </p><p>Leah’s head had lolled sideways by the time you realised the knife in your hand was still sliding left. You tore your hand away, convinced the damned thing had burned you. The sheer force in which you had yanked your hand away caused you to fall into Toby. His hand snapping around your neck to hold you there.</p><p> </p><p>He was on his knees and you were virtually in his lap. A very dangerous predicament with a hazy outcome flashed before your eyes. No, they wouldn’t, would they?  You glanced towards Jeff trying to replace the vulgar thoughts with ice-cold fear. All you saw in his eyes was hunger. Hunger not for blood but you. He didn’t act on it though. No, instead he would savour the uncertainty slowly clouding your eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone knew you were in more danger than ever. Even Leah, who lay a bloody mess. The blood on your hands, long gone tacky before anyone moves. Masky broke the silence asking how They were going to discard of Leah before mumbling a string of curses and leaving; cracking the door frame as he slammed the heavy bolt door  behind him. </p><p> </p><p>You were slipping into shock, shoulders painfully tense and skin paling, you began to process what you had done. You didn’t know where to look. The darkness behind your eyelids was stained with the image of you carving up you dear ole’ friend’s once porcelain face. Jeff wasn’t safe, the gaze in which he held on you would most likely force a premature heart attack on you and Toby wasn’t and never will be an option. So instead your eyes settled on a notch in the far wall. </p><p> </p><p>An echo of your mother’s words voiced itself in your head. “How senseless death, how precious life’ and you broke down. Utterly disgusted in how filthy you were. How tainted your hands were. How you should have turned that knife on you. You shook and whimpered as Toby’s other arm wound itself around your waist. His other still stationed at your neck just instead of crushing your windpipe, he decided to gently caress the skin under your ear. </p><p> </p><p>You wanted to get away from him, get away from all of it. Get away from life. Your hands were too shaky and the handle of the knife too slippery. You needed relief. Needed a break. Maybe slip into a coma for a while and have a mental reset. You were sure if you asked nicely enough Masky would happily bash your fucking brains in. </p><p> </p><p>Would Jeff and Toby allow that though? Fuck no. They were far too deep to even think about killing you. Sure, they had set their sights on you long ago, but this… this sealed the deal for them. Your blood-caked hands and teary eyes, you looked so lost and fragile. They wanted all of you. Their infatuation had blossomed into a beautiful vine of obsession. Mission be damned you were going to be theirs. </p><p> </p><p>So as you shook and cried and screamed at the world to eat you alive, Jeff and Toby were silently planning their next move. You were too fragile for them to just claim you as theirs. They didn't want obedience, they wanted entertainment. They wanted you to fight back, scream, kick and punch. If they acted on their impulses now, you’d be nothing but a mindless lump of flesh. A living target, walking chopping bord. A lifeless fuck doll. However, they also had to keep you on your toes, because god-fucking-damn you were quick-witted. </p><p> </p><p>They also had to take into consideration that you were teetering on the edge of becoming a proxy. </p><p> </p><p>Now that would be hell.</p><p> </p><p>Jeff caught Toby’s eyes from across the room and slowly shook his head. He could tell what the masked murderer was thinking because he was thinking the same. Toby wanted to consume you. Consume all of you. Jeff could practically hear Toby’s pounding heart and saws his self-control slipping away as you squirmed and shuddered in his arms. </p><p> </p><p>Toby could barely hold himself back. His inner monologue arguing with his impulses. ‘Nows, not the right time’ and ‘just one little tase’ kept repeating over and over in his jumbled mind. Jeff watched from the couch as Toby eyes glazed over in want. Watching as Leah continued to bleed out. Watched as tears cascaded down your face watched how blissfully unaware you were about the storm that was about to hit. </p><p> </p><p>You didn’t know how long you had been sat there and only realised you were sitting down when it dawned o you that you were sitting on him. Sat in the arms of the man that had taken so much from you in such little time. The shock of realisation made you jump so hard that you almost flew off of his lap. </p><p> </p><p>Big mistake.</p><p> </p><p>Toby leapt after you and pined you down flat. His knees either side of your hips, one hand on your neck and the other held both your writs captive. Jeff was up too. However, he made no move to alleviate the situation and just chose to watch Toby battle with himself.</p><p> </p><p>You were frozen, not daring to move or speak. You laid their eyes screwed shut, pretending you couldn't feel Toby’s hungry gaze. You knew where this was going and it twisted your gut to think about it. You needed a way out and Toby wanted relief. </p><p> </p><p>Then, he moved. Leaned down. Warm air caressed your ear as Toby nuzzled the side of his face into your hair. Oh god, you were so soft and fragile and so fucking addictive. His mind flashed back to the warehouse where he had fist marked you. From that moment onward, all he had thought bout was how delicious you were, how much he had wanted to claim you as his. How much he wanted to bruise you up and do you in. Now was his chance he thought. Now he could have you, have all of you. </p><p> </p><p>“Wheres your fire gone Y/N.” your name was hot off of his tongue and even hotter against your neck. Eyes wide and scared shitless you couldn't help yourself but let a whimper slip as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. No, this couldn't be happening. You had to run, kick, scream, but you knew that would just spur him on. Not to mention Jeff was still here and if you rilled him up too, things would get real messy real fast. </p><p>You were surprised Jeff hadn’t moved. As your eyes drifted up towards his you knew why. The man looked feral. Eyes blown, black suffocating the blue. Neck tense and shoulders set. He was ready to tear Toby to pieces and do god knows what to you. Toby seemed to catch on to this, chuckling and then sinking his teeth into the shell of your ear, “wanna let him watch pet, wanna l-let him watch as I tear into you and take what’s mine-”</p><p> </p><p>“Toby, nows not the time” Jeff’s voice was strained, torn at the edges. His was all ducktape and nails, trying to keep his impulses tame. His grip was slipping, you could hear it falling away with every syllable. Toby was no help. His slow, calculated chuckle unravelling jeff’s mental restraints.</p><p> </p><p>You knew your time was limited, any minute now Jeff would pounce. You knew fighting was futile. With how damned durable these guys were, your injuries and lack of weaponry near you; physically fighting them would only pour gasoline on the fire. </p><p> </p><p>“Toby, please s-stop! I don’t want- I- please” guess we’re bargaining now, how fucking pathetic. What choice did you have though? And so, as you spluttered out reasons why the two killers shouldn’t have their cruel way with you, shouldn’t use you, shouldn’t break you, you sealed your fate. Sealed it with the devil’s signature. Because begging a pleading for mercy was what drove the killers to enjoy themselves. </p><p> </p><p>Toby would often vocalise how much he loved it when his victims were on the brink of death and yet still begged for mercy. He loved it when their body was so badly beaten and bloody, that even extensive surgery wouldn’t help and yet they still begged. Jeff, now jeff wanted them pleading for death. He wanted them so fucked in the head, so traumatized that death became their only safe haven. He would drag out their death and make sure their last hours were horrific. So you, pinned to the ground, bruised and bloody, begging, sent all regard for the mission and self-control spiralling away.</p><p> </p><p>You knew you had fucked up when you felt a hand weaving itself into your hair. It definitely wasn’t Toby’s as he still had ahold of your wrists and the back of your neck and as you looked up again you locked eyes with the sinister eyes of Jeff The Killer.</p><p> </p><p>He was on his knees one hand in your hair the other reaching for his knife. Toby was still on top of you, flexing his fingers around your neck and pulling your ear between his teeth. You were long sobbing at this point. Your please bleeding into cries as a small pool of tears forme under your face.</p><p> </p><p>What came next shocked you. </p><p> </p><p>They stopped.</p><p> </p><p>Just fucking stopped. Jeffs’s hand unravelled its self from your hair toby got off of you and you were just left there. Then you heard the click of a gun.</p><p> </p><p>Oh fuck.</p><p>“Clean this up and get her ready. Boss said we have to be on the road by morning.” Hoodie marched out of the room followed by who you assumed to be masky. Thank the heavens. Your relief was short-lived though as Toby once more invaded your personal space. Instead of pining you, he hauled you up to your feet buy the back of your shirt and was hastily shoving you across the room towards a narrow hallway. </p><p> </p><p>You tried to glance over your shoulder, attempting to locate Jeff but toby’s broad chest block pretty much all your view back into the room. You could hear him though and boy did he sound pissed. You could hear the distinct splintering of wood loud growls of slurs and an ominous soft thud. </p><p> </p><p>The sounds were quickly drowned out when toby once again shoved you hard. This time you ended up in a small bathroom. It was surprisingly clean. Sure the tiles were cracked and half the shower curtain was torn but it wasn’t unusable. Saying that with the way a towel was dumped on top of a pile of clothes the exposing shower curtain would soon become problematic. </p><p> </p><p>“Clean yourself. Don’t get dressed and w-wait for me” Simple enough- wait. Hold on.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean ‘Don’t get dre-”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re injured, can’t have you getting all infected. B-boss w-would kill me.” a small chuckle left his lips as he shut the door behind him leaving you alone. God that twat was beyond bipolar. Hw would go from sarcastic asshole to ‘I’m going to eat you whole’ to cracking jokes faster than you could keep up. It was downright confusing. Even more confusing than the shower controls you were now glaring daggers into.</p><p> </p><p>With the shock of almost getting your dignity torn from your soul, nothing was making sense. Not even the very simple shower you were standing under. Not to mention you hadn’t even stripped. </p><p> </p><p>Come on think you stupid bitch.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Holy fuck that was difficult to write. I think you can see where I'm going with the character dynamic. things are gonna get messy.</p><p>The next part will be posted sometime in August.</p><p> </p><p>-Till next time Loner</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologise for any spelling, punctuation or grammatical errors. I'm dyslexic and can't recognise the error. And I don't have a proofreader. </p><p>Till next time - Loner</p></blockquote></div></div>
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